


Sun Fortune

by Dorotheian



Series: Canary Cage [4]
Category: CLAMP - Works, xxxHoLic
Genre: Bad Luck, Canon Compliant, Curses, Dating, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hitsuzen, Long-Distance Relationship, Truth promise, Unrequited Love, magic versus reason
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorotheian/pseuds/Dorotheian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Himawari falls in love with the man whom she later married, the only one who is able to withstand her bad luck and become close to her, and why. Later: the courtship of Kohane and Doumeki. Takes place shortly after Watanuki takes over as shopkeeper, touching on his early days and struggles, and how his choices affect his friends. Parallel to "In the Eyes of Doumeki Shizuka."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Luckless Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> In canon, it's a fact that Himawari marries. But whoever she marries, from the standpoint of the story, he has no name, no face, no personality, and no explanation as to why it is possible for him to be with Himawari when it ought to be impossible. Which wasn't enough for me, clearly. So everything here is totally made up.

She had gotten distracted; she hadn't been paying attention. Himawari steps just wrong on a crack in the sidewalk and her ankle rolls out from under her. She spills sideways, arms arms flying outwards, and she lands hard against the girl next to her—she forgets—people are always following her—and sucks in her breath. She immediately bows to apologize, hoping against hope that nothing will happen. But the girl dazedly stumbles into the street, and a random bicyclist slams on his brakes and barrels right into her. The girl crashes to the ground, and the wheel of the bike gets caught between her legs: both bicyclist and the bike flip in the air. The bicyclist lands on his back. Neither of them are moving.

Himawari drops the briefcase she had been holding and sinks slowly to her knees. A boy runs past her from behind, yelling 119, and rushes to the girl. Himawari crawls forward, despite herself, because she doesn't want to look, but she must look, because once again, this is something that she has done...

The boy catches her eye and stares at her, and Himawari realizes that she's not doing anything, just looking, being useless, being an outsider. The boy mouths, DO SOMETHING, and mimes speaking into a phone. Or maybe he shouted it, but Himawari can't hear. Startled, Himawari digs out her phone and dials the number with fingers that haven't yet begun to shake. The number connects and Himawari answers the questions she can. Afterwards she doesn't remember what the questions were, or exactly what she said, just the voice at the end: It's okay, help is coming. By then Himawari's hands are shaking so badly that she drops the cell phone to the pavement—it clatters; her fingers are still jerkily twitching. She watches them as if they belong to someone else. She feels so drained. It doesn't matter. She doesn't believe them, it's all over, they are both dead and there's nothing that can be done. Too much has happened for her to believe in any other outcome. It's been years since something happened quite so quickly, directly linked to her, right before her eyes like this. At least not since Watanuki fell out of the window...

That was quite a long time ago. The thought makes her feel vaguely ill.

The ambulance arrives, and they take both the corpses away.

The boy finished talking to...to the police, she thinks dully, who else would it be...and he glances her way and she can see their eyes flash at her: they're going to ask her questions.

She stands, holding her briefcase, half-sways, half pivots to the side. She doesn't want to. If she could...but she's trembling, and too tired to bolt.

"I saw everything," the boy says loudly. "Please, she's in shock. Don't talk to her right now! I told you everything."

"But you said—"

"It was an accident," the boy said, angry. "You have no idea what she's been through! I saw it, she couldn't have prevented that!"

"With all due respect, sir, she's—"

 _Been at the scene of an awful lot of accidents_ , Himawari's mind supplies for her. _It's suspicious._

"How do you know she's not just very, very unlucky?" the boy interrupts.

Hearing that, Himawari nearly falls to her knees.

"She's the one who called 119," the boy says softly. "She did it. It's not her fault."

"We can interview her later," the policeman reflects.

"Please." The boy bows.

They hand her a card. She fumbles for a pen; they give her one. She signs it distractedly, puts down her number. But before she gives it back, she glances at the boy who did this for her, and she blurts out, all in a rush, "It was my fault. I tripped over my a-ankle and fell, and she tipped in the street. I knew her but not that well. We were just classmates. I l-liked her, but I never n-noticed h-her, and now—"

"He your boyfriend?" the policeman interrupts, glancing between her and the boy.

She shakes her head. "I don't even know his name."

The boy looks pained at that admission, but he doesn't say anything. Irritated, he snaps, "She's not my girlfriend, she's in my chemistry class."

The policeman sighs. "All right. You can go on home."

"Thank you." The boy says it. Himawari starts walking, and he follows her, as he must have been doing the whole time.

"Where do you live?" says the boy. Up close, she decides, he is really uncomfortably tall. Which isn't really fair because he's only around Doumeki's height, and she never thought of Doumeki that way. Maybe it's because he's still gangly...

She almost tells him. Then she remembers her curse and decides not to. "A little ways ahead. What's your name?"

"Hisaki Muun. Meaning, 'Sun Fortune' and 'No Luck'."

"Hisaki-san. What a strange name..."

"I know. What do you think, Kunogi-san?"

"It seems contradictory," she says reluctantly. Heart fluttering, she thinks, it seems oddly...significant.

"I know, right? But it's not, actually. I think it means that wherever I walk under this sun, I have no luck but the luck I make myself, which brings me fortune. I mean, the sun has only one gift to give to everyone equally, right? Does that make sense?"

Himawari has to stop and think about that one. "I see," she says finally. "Yes, it does make sense. You must have gotten teased a lot when you were young, though."

Hisaki shrugs. "Yeah, I hated my parents at first, but it's kind of become a personal philosophy."

"It's a good one," Himawari says softly, looking at the ground. She wishes she could be so carefree...

His smile is kind, and more knowing than she would like. Than she thinks he could actually be, and that scares her a little.

"I live here." Hisaki points to a house across the street. To her shock, it's not all that far away from hers. They had been in the same neighborhood for years and she had never noticed.

But she doesn't say anything to enlighten him. "See you."

"Tomorrow," he agrees, with a quick smile.

He leaves before she can protest. But protest what? It's not like he's going to intrude on her lunch sessions with Doumeki. Suddenly, she feels the loss of Watanuki keenly. She is weary. Doumeki is Doumeki, as always, but it is not the same. Nobody knows her liked Watanuki did. No one else can cheer her like he could. She has a million acquaintances, just like the Kawashima girl, but no friends. And she's tired of it all. Tired of them, tired of Doumeki, tired of Watanuki being gone. She misses the luxury of having someone to be genuinely close to.

Once he's inside his own home, she enters her house. Tampopo flies to her finger and cheeps, and she smiles, despite herself. It's not actually all that bad. She's not quite that alone.

* * *

The boy named Hisaki waits for her at school. He smiles at her from behind the gate, and steps forward to talk to her.

She feels strange. It takes a while before Himawari realizes that the reason she doesn't recognize the emotion is that it is not born of anxiety or trepidation, but from pleasure and happiness. She was...she was _glad_ he had waited for her.

That alters her perspective a little.

Himawari squares her shoulders, and turns to him, accepting him into her space.

"Kunogi-san," Hisaki says. "Good morning."

"Good morning. You know, you can call me Himawari if you want," she says quietly.

"Himawari-chan," he repeats. "Himawari-chan, please call me Muun."

"Muun-kun." She smiles—a genuine smile; Hisaki Muun almost gapes at the sight. Himawari thinks it's cute. Watanuki used to make expressions like that. But now she also feels a little sad.

Muun is watching her. "What's going on? Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" she says in surprise, looking up.

"You lost your expression and were staring into the space over my shoulder. You looked kind of lost, or upset."

"Oh." Most people don't notice... "I had a friend who made goofy expressions like yours, once."

His brow snaps together in understanding, and then a certain softness rolls over his face. "I'm sorry," Muun says gently.

Himawari hefts her briefcase, an unconscious reminder that they really ought to be getting to class. "Don't be," she says, subdued.

"Why not?" he demands, surprising her again.

"Because..." she says vaguely, "He's still alive, and we're still friends." She begins drifting towards the classrooms.

He follows her. "Meaning he's sick, or that he moved?"

"Both, I guess," says Himawari listlessly. She doesn't feel like elaborating the lie. She glances around. The halls here are empty; all of the posters and student artwork has been taken down recently.

"Did he go to this school?"

"Yes."

"Who, then?"

"He was the boy who fell out the window," she tells him as they mount the stairs.

The air Muun breathed whistled through his teeth. "I see... I didn't know him that well. He's still recovering, then?"

"Yes." _Not that he's ever going to leave the wishing shop in my lifetime, if he's serious about seeing Yuuko. Even if I hadn't been who I was, I don't think I could compete with Yuuko's hold over him._

"Did you love him?" They turn the corner.

Himawari turns pale. "No. Never." More softly still, so softly she's sure Muun can't hear her, she whispers, " _We couldn't_..."

"Why do you look so guilty, then?" Muun persists.

"What happened to him was my fault." Himawari shoves open the sliding door to her classroom and enters. Muun takes a step back, and Himawari lets the door slide shut.

It probably surprised him. Himawari has a reputation for being kind and patient with everyone, for never letting her own faults get in the way of others. He must be surprised by this chilly display of selfishness.

* * *

They have chemistry together. She'd forgotten. Muun immediately heads for her as a partner in the latest experiment. Himawari's covey of girl friends, the ones who compliment her and defend her and make sure no one bothers her, back away. She doesn't understand at first, but then she sees their hope for a brimming romance in their eyes. They don't want to watch, not sabotage this. Whatever "this" is. Feed for their chatter. Himawari sighs, and accepts, though it's not for their sakes.

"We've never worked together before," said Muun carefully.

"No, we haven't," Himawari agrees, thinking of her girl friends. One of them usually takes the role of her partners in everything.

"I'm happy to have this opportunity."

Himawari feels a little irritated. He doesn't have to be that nice. "You know I burn and ruin everything in chemistry. I haven't written a single lab report that doesn't mention experiment failure."

Chemistry is Doumeki's best subject. Although he's tried to tutor her before, nothing could help her terrible experiments, and eventually he gave up. There was nothing wrong with his teaching methods.

Muun shrugs. "I know, but we'll see. Let us try. Maybe with me, it will be different."

"All right." She deliberately acquiesces too easily. He knows she doesn't believe him.

Still Muun grins, as if he's happy that he has to prove his capability to her.

They work through the experiment. To Himawari's surprise, nothing in particular goes wrong, and the one thing she made a mistake with, Muun compensated for. Himawari feels a bit relieved that she won't have to write about the mistakes in her lab report. It's a lot of extra work.

"You see, it's all Hana-san's fault." Muun nodded to one of Himawari's covey, a girl with dyed hair the color of honey. "When she's on your right, she organizes things wrong and you get confused and pick up the wrong ingredient or measurement or whatever. When she's on your left, she often reads the instructions wrong from over your shoulder. She's always tripping you up, and you never notice because you're expecting to fail. She really does like you, she's not trying to set you up or anything. Rather, she's trying too hard."

"How do you know?"

"Observation."

"Really."

"Yes."

"What if my bad luck simply interferes with the experiment?"

Muun shakes his head. "It's not bad luck. It's bad organization and half-hearted teamwork and bad timing."

"What about the times Hana-san doesn't work with me, then?"

Muun grin turns crooked. "Can't explain that. But it accounts for half of your failures." Then his smile fades. "I can't figure it out for the rest of them."

"Huh..." Himawari says distractedly.

"The reason why it went well when you worked with me is that it's probably just Murphy's law," says Muun. "Whatever can go wrong will go wrong. But if you prepare enough, you can prevent things from going wrong in the first place. You and Hana-san expect things to go wrong, but you only react to the things that happen to you."

"Oh," says Himawari in a small voice, drawn up short.

"I told you, I make my own luck," Muun says proudly.

"But what if I don't?" says Himawari. "What if my luck is an indelible part of me?"

Muun could have dismissed her words as joking, but instead he takes her seriously. "Maybe you can learn to turn it."

Himawari shakes her head. To her, Muun's argument only proves that he is able to defeat her luck. Which doesn't necessarily mean she can change it at all by herself.

But maybe, just maybe, she tells herself, it wouldn't hurt to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I invented Himawari's love interest's name by mashing kanji with interesting meanings together. If it doesn't make sense, and I made a mistake, I'm sorry; it's supposed to be significant. If there was a better or more accurate way to do it, I would. So, here's his name in kanji: 日幸 無運 (Hisaki Muun).


	2. Magnetism

"Hey! Kunogi-san! Kunogi-san!" Muun is running in the halls.

It's the middle of break, their short recess. Himawari, in the middle of a short errand carrying some books and papers for a teacher, raises her head and turns towards the voice. "What is it, Muun-kun?" she calls back.

Muun skids to a halt front of her, panting a little, leaning on his knees. "They're okay. The bicyclist and the girl from the other day... They're both okay. Mostly."

"What? How...?" Himawari says faintly. "I thought they were dead."

Muun shook his head. "It was in the daily papers today." Muun opens his school bag and rummages in it, takes out the paper he spoke of.

Himawari takes it, skims it, finds the article. She doesn't want to see the results, but the words spring out at her from the page anyway.  _Broken legs. Fractured skull. Partial paralysis. No permanent brain damage._  "They're alive, then." She folds the paper, and looks away, avoiding Muun's eyes.

"Yes," says Muun, simply, and Himawari hands the daily paper back to him. He tucks it in his school bag and looks at her. "This isn't the first time that something like this has happened to you, though..."

"What?"

"You expected it too much for it be an unusual occurrence."

Himawari turns away.

"So that's a yes?"

Himawari cringes. He walks up, right beside her. She avoids looking at him.

"That's a  _yes_ ," Muun says, voice soft. Himawari swallows. He waits.

"I-I've b-been this way all my l-life..." she stutters, panicking.

"I'm sorry. You must feel  _horrible_ ," he says.

Shocked, she stares at him. "What?" A spark of fear enters her chest. Sure, his words were sympathetic, but she has no idea what he's going to say next.

"I didn't realize it was this bad," Muun says in a low voice. "That you think that you are such bad luck that you cause these things to happen."

Her hands begin to shake. Himawari flexes them, partly from her anxiety, partly to mask their trembling at her sides. She looks up. "But I do. Cause these things to happen," she says in a small voice. She doesn't know where she got the courage to say that. That honesty she couldn't even dredge up for Watanuki. But now the damage is done, the words can't be unspoken, unsaid. Her eyes flash to his, searching his face, expecting to see—what? Nothing, she can't read him, she  _can't read him_. Certainty dissolves—

The world crumbles about her, a curious ringing in her ears as she watches Muun's expression freeze, shut down, and fall into shadow. It is not quite pity, but close. He doesn't believe her at all—worse than that. "I see," he says, and the words are toneless. In an instant Himawari knows that his estimation of her has changed completely. He thinks she is crazy, that she's imagining, hallucinating things. She couldn't possibly have power—luck doesn't exist for him. She shouldn't have told him. Of course he wouldn't believe! It was wrong. It was a mistake. She is such a  _fool_.

She can't defend herself. If she tries to argue, to convince him—if he doesn't understand that this is the  _truth_  about her, the broken base her other beliefs all stand on—she will scare him worse than she has already.  _This can't be fixed_. She's going to lose him.

It's all too much, the pain. Couldn't stay. Himawari backs away, turns, blinking tears from her eyes. "It's not safe," she mumbles, knowing he won't understand but desperate to save him anyway— "You can't be near me," but he won't believe her— and she pivots and lurches blindly in a direction, any direction. She stumbles, barely managing to hold onto the books and papers in her arms, and begins to run.

She slams into someone hard—someone tall, a teacher, the principal maybe, but she doesn't care, it doesn't matter—the books slam into her chest, air rattles out of her lungs and the books shudder in her grip. She staggers and leans to sprint forward but their arms reach for her and it's too much, too heavy, she drops the books on the floor, papers fly everywhere, and in the confusion she weaves just out of reach and she's running again, wrapping her arms around her chest.

Himawari sprints through the hall, dodging students and teachers and doors, searching for something, a way to escape, a way out, a way to collect herself. Everyone is trying to stop her, but she finds it—a door, a small door, a small place in the dark, alone, no one to watch her, to see her, to judge her—the door was open, she leaps inside—it is surprisingly empty—and she slams it shut. Her breath is harsh and ragged, even a little whistley, within the metal confines. She sags against the door, now locked shut, and cries.

By the time Muun catches up to Himawari, people are frozen still. Muun shouts and them, yells at them to go and leave the girl alone—snapping out of their shock, they all trip over themselves to get away from the sound. Then Muun stands there alone. After a few moments, the teacher Himawari ran into shuffles into the room, wincing a little, and stops just behind Muun. He waits.

Himawari's weeping becomes more and more quiet.

The teacher touches Muun's shoulder, and Muun uncurls enough to see his tiny nod.

Muun takes a deep breath, and says, "Himawari-chan?"

Hearing the name, the teacher's eyes widen, and his eyebrows lift. He hadn't had enough time to recognize her, and was surprised.

Himawari makes a small, incoherent sound in reply. Probably a sniffle.

"I'm sorry, Himawari-chan. I didn't mean to make you upset." Muun's voice is thin, like a pin dropping in the middle of the empty foyer. The teacher's hand, all experience and sincere concern, squeezes his shoulder, as if in affirmation. So he must be doing okay. He takes a deep breath.

She hears him. This time Himawari makes a sound that definitely sounds like a low, dry sob.

"I don't understand what happened," said Muun. "I—I sent everyone out of here. It's just me, and...and Sensei. You can take all the time you want. Class already started. I'm just...going to talk."

The teacher nods. Good response.

Rustling from within the locker goes quiet. Maybe she's ready to listen.

"I—" Muun twists to glance at the teacher; he can't say what he really wants to say. He hopes he won't judge him too badly. "I guess— I just want you to know that I really…I love you." What the hell. He didn't think he would be saying it now, but it's true.

A dull thud. A—a clang?

Muun tries not to think about it. "I don't care what you believe. It doesn't matter. L-l-luck doesn't matter." Jeez, having the teacher on his shoulder is making him nervous. Whatever could he be getting out of this? "I-I've been watching you for a long time, so I've known for a while. I guess you didn't know that. Maybe that's what scared you, figuring that out today."

"Muun-kun..." her voice is faint. "What are you..."

He waits, hopefully, but she doesn't say anything more. "I'm sorry because you shouldn't have to believe that stuff," he continues. "Nobody should have to monitor themselves that carefully, it's just not humanly possible. You must be in such fear, all the time, and nobody ever suspected. I don't know. If I lived with that every second of my day, maybe I would decide I didn't deserve life."

The teacher's hand clenches on Muun's shoulder, and he winces. Maybe he's masking Himawari's real problem, but he isn't getting them both out of therapy. This is going to be a  _mess_.

"But you wouldn't…you didn't think that. You're strong, Himawari," Muun says. "In spite of all of that, you were always smiling. But I love you more than you think if you think that the truth that actually you would rather not be smiling right now would make me go away. You don't have to smile for me, if that's not how you feel. I couldn't hate you. I wouldn't fear you. I think you must have been afraid of that."

A soft clinking.

"Maybe it's true, what you said," Muun spells out slowly. "I knew…that all the signs pointed in that direction. But I'm a scientific kind of person. My gut feelings told me that you were right. Because I saw what kinds of things happen around you. But I simply refuse— I can't accept it as true. You have good reasons, good evidence for your beliefs which you've probably been building up from childhood, and I am going to work hard to make you believe otherwise. Remember my name? I'm Mr. 'No Luck.' I will decide what is for my own good."

"Muun-kun." The door nudges forward, a little. Himawari must have rested her forehead there.

"Are you ready to come out?" he says tentatively.

Himawari sighs through the grill vent. "Yes."

" _Can_  you get out?"

"I'm not sure..."

"I'll get the key, so both of you stay here," Sensei orders. He walks away purposefully, limping only a little.

They're both quiet. Muun begins to wonder idly whose locker Himawari crashed into and searches the door to read the nameplate. The worn, faded label reads, in scratchy spidery handwriting, _Kimihiro _Watanuki__.

"Himawari…do you, uh, know whose locker you're in?" asks Muun.

"No..." She sounds disinterested.

"It's Watanuki's locker," he says carefully. "Isn't that interesting? Watanuki Kimihiro. I can't remember him at all. Still, the name sounds really familiar. Did you know him?"

He can hear the hitch in her breathing after hearing that name.

_Oh no._

"Muun-kun. You need to stand back."

"What?"

"Things…are going to happen," said Himawari, sounding strained.

_"Tell me why."_

"I can't!"

"Then I'm not moving."

"I  _can't_!" The tiny rip in her voice betrays the onset of new tears. "You need to get back. You'll get hurt."

"I'm not going."

"I don't know what will happen but I know it will be bad! Hurry! If Sensei doesn't come back soon—"

"He's going slow. He was limping, before. So it's going to take a while."

" _Please_ , go back."

"No. I won't."


	3. Locker Confessions

Something crashes. Himawari scrabbles at the inside of the door and cuts herself on something. "Muun-kun!  _Muun_!" She slaps the door, hits it with the side of her fist.

She hears him coughing and coughing until suddenly he lets out a groan. She slides down so she can see through the grill again. Sees his hand, splayed taught and wide on the ground.

"Muun-kun! Are you okay?" she sobs.

"M'm fine," she hears him mumble. "Just dazed."

Vague. Innocuous. She doesn't like the sound of that at all, it only means something worse is yet to happen. The only reason why she isn't slamming her whole body against the doors to get out is that she is afraid that she could take down the lockers on top of him by throwing her weight around, and crush him. And that would be—much worse luck.

"What happened?"

He coughs, and groans, "Urgh…" she hears sounds of scraping, sliding. The sound of shoes stepping over ground. "Something on top of the lockers fell. I think. Like, uh, a satchel of some kind? Felt like a ton of bricks. Ugh, I feel awful. Why am I…so sick…I can't see—" His body slams into the locker door—Himawari jumps back—and then he slides down.

Curling her fingers into her palm, Himawari holds her fists to her chest as she gingerly peers out the grill—but there's not much to see; just blurry shadows. Darkness.

His breathing quickly becomes audible and labored.

Himawari starts to sweat. She knows what—she knows  _who_  this sounds like. Even without seeing it she  _knows_  what the picture on the other side of the door must be. The pattern is too familiar.

Bad luck is one thing. Watanuki is another. When Himawari and Watanuki mixed their spheres of influence, the result was always both terrifying and nasty. Watanuki was haunted and oppressed by spirits no one else could see. If one of them attached itself to Muun-kun, he won't even know what is attacking him, and then the spirits—

What they need is Doumeki.

Himawari pulls the ribbons from her hair and clenches them in her fists. Closing her eyes, she begins to wish.

* * *

A door slams in the hall and Himawari hears loud, forceful footsteps. A second pair, lighter, comes from down the hall—

_"Doumeki-san, you can't just leave like this—" the voice stops short, and the light, dancing footsteps stop._

_The heavy steps slow as they near the scene. "Yamada-kun, I need you to call the school nurse," Doumeki suggests tonelessly._

_"Uh, right, yes…" The other boy runs._

"He'll be all right, Kunogi," says Doumeki calmly, bending down. Himawari looks through the grill and sees his feet and hands, walking. He drags part of Muun into view. "I can feel his pulse. He's fine."

"Can—can he breathe?" Himawari asks.

There's a pause. "If I keep touching him, yes."

"How did you know? I thought you were in class..."

"I felt it." A dark shape descends over the grill. When the dark shape—Doumeki—moves back up, Muun is gone. Doumeki probably picked him up or slung him over his shoulder.

"Take him—take him to W-Watanuki, then?" Himawari stutters.

"If necessary."

"Please, Doumeki.  _Please!_ "

"I'll leave. Kunogi, I can trust you to explain everything to the teachers in my absence?" But he doesn't wait for an answer. Doumeki walks away, his footfalls heavier and slower than they had been when he approached.

_Yes._

Himawari wraps her arms around her knees and rocks there, tears streaming down her face.

* * *

She finishes wiping her tears away just as the teacher with the limp comes with the key to let her out. At last she has some semblance of calm.

"Are you all right? Where's the boy?" asks the teacher as he unlocks the door.

Himawari eases herself out of the locker and stands slowly. She shakes her head. "He got really anxious while I was in there, and I thought he was getting calmer, but then he started having trouble breathing, and one of the other students took him to the nurse's office…"

"Then I hope he's all right. But how are you?"

Himawari avoids his eyes. "Fine. I—I overreacted over something…very stupid. I worried Muun-kun, I mean Hisaki-san, when I got upset…then I accidentally locked myself in there…" She shudders. "It wasn't his fault. He was just trying to help. I don't know what came over me…I just needed to c-calm down. Sometimes the darkness and the…small spaces help."

"Are you sure?"

She nods. "I want to—I want to make sure he's okay. If he had an asthma attack because of me, or something..."

"I see. Would it be possible for you to return to class today?"

She shakes her head.

He sighs. "You should know that if you ever wished to speak any teacher about these things, we would listen. I cannot promise I would not be bound to interfere…but I could suspend judgment."

" _Hai,_ " she says, quiet and earnest. "Of course." Himawari bows slightly.

Perhaps they could listen, but in this matter, they couldn't help.

"Seeing as class has been disrupted enough already, you might as well run along to the infirmary, see to your friend, and return to class when you are ready. Clear the air at the earliest opportunity. If you need some time to think, then come back to school tomorrow. Am I clear?" he says sternly.

"Yes." Himawari bows once more, and turns to leave.

The teacher shakes his head. "One more thing, Kunogi-san."

Himawari stops.

"If your grades go down then I will be forced to have a conference with yourself and Hisaki-kun."

Himawari says, "Yes."

"That is all. I don't expect to have to." He looks at her meaningfully.

Respectfully, Himawari says, "Thank you, sir."

"That is all. You may go."

_Finally_ , she escapes.

* * *

Muun-kun is not in the infirmary. Which means he's at Watanuki's house, and Doumeki left to accompany him. Utterly despondent, Himawari makes excuses for them all, and leaves the school.

It's only once she's on the street outside the house that she remembers that she has to wait at the gate. She's not allowed in except once a year on April 1st. She's just touched the gate when the door opens and Doumeki comes out to meet her. Himawari steps back a little.

"How is he?" she asks, downcast.

Doumeki shrugs slightly. "Fine, I think. Watanuki threw some salt at him."

Himawari laughs uncertainly. "Did it work...?"

Doumeki's mouth twitches at the corners. "The boy got angry."

"At least he can breathe…" she groans, twisting her hands through her hair.

"Yes." Doumeki inclines his head. "And you?"

Without warning, Himawari sinks to her knees. "No! Oh my  _god_ , Doumeki. What are you even  _asking_ — I can't!"

"Mm." Doumeki crouches on the tips of his toes and leans forward. "He means a lot to you."

A dark and brittle note creeps into her voice. "I've lost people before."

He looks at her. "He's like Watanuki."

She grabs the bars of the gate and shakes them. "No, he's  _not_!" she screeches, and flinches at her own voice.

Doumeki remains calm. "The boy is fragile. He loves you. You're fond—or about to become so." That Doumeki can see through her so quickly and make this sound so matter of fact… For just a moment, she almost hates him.

"I've only known him three days!" she spits. "That's just not—"

"Then you know he's important."

With tears springing to her eyes, she scowls furiously. "How can you—!"

"Kunogi." The guarded, warning look in Doumeki's eyes silences her instantly. Because Doumeki loves Watanuki too. No, Doumeki doesn't love Himawari, but he wants her away from Watanuki. He wants to help her move on. This is what he's really saying:  _d_ _on't lie to yourself so you can cling to the past, Kunogi._

After a short pause, Doumeki speaks again. "They say that there is no such thing as love at first sight. But there are people we meet whom we know immediately are important." He stands. "He may not be the love of your life. But he is your special person.  _Do not_  deny that." He points to her chest. "Not while your scarlet heart bleeds through your hands."

Bewildered, she looks down; sure enough, her hands are clenched into fists and crossed over her chest. It's throbbing, dully. Her fists are wet from fallen tears. "I'm…not bleeding," she says, as if in shock, the words robotic and false, clueless to her ears; she looks back up.

Doumeki makes a sharp intake of breath, a hurt sound. "Then it's just a daydream," says Doumeki, somewhat hoarsely, and turns his back to her. There's something odd about this. Something she hadn't expected from Doumeki. A brokenness...

Himawari blinks. "You—saw something? Saw that?"

He doesn't answer, but nods slightly.

"Because of your—grandfather? Or Watanuki?" She guesses.

He shrugs, like he doesn't know.

"But what happened, that's not  _normal_!" she says, voice rising with emotion despite herself.

When he speaks, Doumeki sounds exhausted. "It's not unusual for me to get sudden insights. What's difficult is..."

"…sharing them," Himawari finishes, voice soft.

His shoulders stiffen for an instant, and then he nods.

" _For the truth._ " She says it quietly. "Thank you."

Head turned just slightly, his jaw clenches. "I never saw you cry in pain like that before, Kunogi," Doumeki tells her tightly, strung with a sense of complete and final certainty. "And I am quite sure. I am  _quite_  sure, that I never want to see it again." With long strides, he stalks back into the house, as if he can no longer stand to be in her presence.

Perhaps he can't. There is always more to Doumeki than meets the eye.

She sighs. Doumeki is kind, kinder than she deserves. If she needs him, he will be there, but…she'd forgotten he was already hurting. Just now, he didn't want to help, but he felt he had to.

She shouldn't have forgotten. There is much that Watanuki has yet to answer for. After Watanuki locked himself in the wishing shop, it's been hard for Doumeki to see her, and she doesn't blame Doumeki for that. Himawari may have loved Watanuki, Watanuki may have loved her, but now she can never be part of his life; Doumeki got that place, and yet Watanuki tolerates him. Doumeki's glad of it, but no wonder he can hardly stand to look at her. He cannot bear her disappointment on top of suffering his own sheer inadequacy.

And he wants Watanuki to love him, so  _badly_.

She knows what that felt like, but she must remember that time is over.

Himawari puts away her feelings, squares her shoulders, and steels her heart. Everything will be all right now. Muun could come out any minute. She will just be waiting. 


	4. Accidents

After only ten minutes or so, the door to the wishing shop bangs open and Watanuki storms out, rushing into the garden. "Out, Doumeki! You're not telling me what to do, now get out of my way!" he shouts impatiently, and actually pushes Doumeki to the side as he strides to meet Himawari, his stiff robes floundering in the air behind him.

After a brief, irritated glance in Doumeki's direction—a warning for him not to come any closer—he reaches the gate, stops, and deliberately smiles at Himawari.

Himawari's stomach makes a half-hearted flipflop. She tries to smile back, but can only manage a stiff grimace.

"How are you?" he asks. "And Tampopo?"

"Fine," she says. "And you?"

"Mostly well. Doumeki's been on my case lately for some, well. Accidents." Watanuki coughs. "Not this time, though."

Himawari resists rolling her eyes. Watanuki is such a bad liar. "You should be more careful," she says instead.

Instead, Watanuki frowns. "According to Doumeki, being careful means that I shouldn't be talking to you," he tells her bluntly.

The smile instantly slips off her face, leaving her grim. "Then maybe you shouldn't. We're only supposed to meet on April 1st, aren't we?"

"You're only allowed on the shop grounds on that day. I see no reason why we can't chat over the fence," Watanuki responds agitatedly. "Like neighbors. Of course I still want to see you."

Himawari breaks eye contact, and doesn't reply.

Watanuki stares at her, wide-eyed, a sense of horror swiftly falling over him: something's wrong, that he's unknowingly said exactly the wrong thing.

He backtracks. "Look, well. Hisaki Muun is fine now, he's doing okay."

"Good." Himawari's hands down at her sides squeeze into fists, and relax. "I heard you threw salt at him," she says, misleadingly casually.

Watanuki chuckles nervously. "As a first response, it works a surprising amount of the time. You and Doumeki should carry some. He got a bit upset with me though. Thought I was insulting him, I guess."

"It didn't stop there, though." Himawari's tone is flat.

Watanuki folds his arms. "No, but honestly, Doumeki should be able to exorcise the spirits that are weak to salt pretty easily. This one was a little tougher." He's  _fidgeting_  though.

It makes her nervous. Himawari steps forward and hisses, voice rising, "Damn it, Watanuki, what  _happened_  to him?  _Where is he?!_ "

"He's safe. He's resting in the wishing shop—"

"—So help me, I can't go in there, Watanuki, why don't you tell me the  _truth_!" Himawari yells.

Watanuki stares at her. "It was just one of those spirits that used to attack me before I met Yuuko. Nothing major. I thought you figured that out."

"Muun doesn't have your powers or defenses," says Himawari, voice brittle. "He's completely ordinary. Your blood may have made you a target but it didn't make you  _weak_. And anyway, there's  _me!_ "

Watanuki looks miserable. "He needs sleep right now, but I swear it, Himawari, he's perfectly well and he'll be healed as soon as he wakes up. He's just tired. He was so busy fighting the spirit that he just passed out after a while—that's normal, it meant he was rejecting it. Which means he wasn't possessed. We started with the salt, moved on to water, and then we tried a few rituals. It took a while because I didn't want Doumeki to shoot him because who knows what that would do to his soul, but after a while Mokona found something in Yuuko's scrolls and we fixed it. Truly, it was the easiest thing I've had to deal with all week."

Himawari leans on the fence next to the gate and twines her fingers into her hair, averting her eyes. She can't look at him. "Fine.  _Fine_. Okay." Now all of this can  _stop..._

A little bit too eagerly, Watanuki offers, "If you don't believe me, I could ask Doumeki to take a picture of him for you—"

Himawari shakes her head. "Really. Don't. Thanks, but no." If someone found out—if Muun found out—she would never live to see the day. It was a really bad idea. Even if she really did want the proof.

Watanuki swallows. "He should be able to go to school tomorrow."

"Thanks." Himawari nods, and steps away from the gate.

"Himawari-chan—"

But Himawari turns her back and flees.

* * *

He keeps watching her and the road, even after she's gone, staring dumbly at her footsteps. His mind is blank.

It takes a minute before he remembers that he still feels awful for reasons other than rejection from Himawari. A second later, he realizes that he's already swaying on his feet. "Doumeki," Watanuki mutters out of the corner of his mouth, wiping his forehead, "Can you. Can you come here?" He tries to sound a little louder. "I feel sick..." He turns towards the house stiffly.

Doumeki appears at his side out of nowhere and he grasps Watanuki by the arm to steady him. "You  _i_ _diot_."

He instantly feels a little better. Just enough to say— "It worked," said Watanuki, leaning back on Doumeki's hold, with a lopsided, giddy grin. He's entirely too pleased with himself.

" _A_ _ho!_ " Doumeki hisses, just audibly enough to hit Watanuki's ears. "Are you dumb, or crazy?"

The retort is not satisfying. It never is, firstly because Watanuki never listens, and secondly because this time Watanuki turns white as chalk and faints, turning into dead weight.

Doumeki starts cursing.

About halfway to the stairs Watanuki comes back to consciousness. "...know you think…wasn't lying…" he's muttering.

"About what?" Doumeki replies grimly.

Watanuki passes out again.

Somehow Doumeki gets them both back into the house and into the bedrooms. Maru and Moro run ahead of him, opening doors and preparing things, and when he reaches the last room he practically throws Watanuki down on the futon next to Hisaki Muun. Doumeki slumps down the wall to sit. Glancing at him, the girls tuck the newly-christened shopkeeper in, and leave.

A minute or two later, Watanuki opens his eyes. "I wasn't lying..."

Doumeki grunts.

"This really was the easiest thing I've had to deal with all week." Watanuki sighs.

Doumeki stands up, flexing his hands, and storms out of the room before he decides to break something.

* * *

The next morning, Muun wakes up to loud rustling noises the next bed over. He sits up slowly. Turning his head, he sees the shopkeeper flailing and struggling and yelling about Himawari's friend Doumeki, who is actually  _growling_  and trying to pin one of the shopkeeper's arms at the same time.

Finally Doumeki gets some leverage and huffs, "I can't treat you if you won't stay still—!"

"Then why did you wake me up?!" Never mind that this doesn't make sense. Doumeki's still, set face suggests that probably wasn't what he meant to do. Watanuki the shopkeeper, who takes no notice, makes a peculiarly catlike yowling noise and screeches, "I don't  _want_  you to treat me, I can do it myself!"

"No you  _can't_ , you can't even see that body part properly,  _aho!_ " Doumeki glares at him.

"What do you expect, I treated myself at home all the time, I've survived seventeen years without you and no parents either DOH-MEH-KEY,  _of course_  I can take care of myself now LEAVE ME ALONE!" Watanuki rants, and pushes back.

To Muun's surprise, Doumeki actually subsides. Watanuki sits up, wriggles his arms out of his kimono, and checks himself over. There are bandages all over his arms. He hisses when he tries to turn so he can see the back of his upper arm and his elbow.

Right next to him, Doumeki looks frustrated and torn between saying "Can we just get on with it?" and "I told you so."

At last Watanuki gives up and mutters sullenly, "Fine. You can do it." He pointedly looks away. In doing so he spots Muun, and his entire demeanor changes from irritated and prickly to warm and friendly. "Oh, Hisaki-kun!" he says, smiling. "You're awake? Good morning!" Behind him, looking dour, Doumeki silently does his work, unwinding and re-bandaging Watanuki's arm in between applying salve.

Slightly stunned, Muun mumbles greetings, then— "It—the monster-thing—it didn't hurt you that much, did it?"

Doumeki looks up.

Watanuki smiles at Muun. "No, this burn was from an accident earlier this week."

"But, I don't remember you getting hurt…" Muun touches his forehead. "But maybe it was after I passed out… I don't quite remember everything..."

Watanuki forces a laugh. "It's nothing, I was merely briefly overwhelmed. Such things have a miasma, you see, that poisons everything around them.  _This_ guy worries too much," he says, pointing to Doumeki.

Doumeki frowns deeply.

Muun isn't really sure  _what_  he's seeing, or whether to believe what Watanuki said, but they seem to be fairly close. "So, um…" He blushes, because this situation is so weird. "Do you know what attacked me…I mean, us...?"

"Not its name, no, but I've met things like it pretty often," says Watanuki. "They're usually much more manageable, though."

"Oh. Um, I'm sorry I doubted you when you threw salt at me."

Watanuki smiles. "No, that was my fault. Doumeki keeps telling me I need to explain things better, it's practically a force of habit with me."

"Yeah, but I couldn't breathe, so." Muun takes a deep breath, relieved that it is now just as easy to draw breath as it was before the attack. "I shouldn't have tried to argue."

Watanuki inclines his head. "No hard feelings. I'm still new to my job."

Muun blinks. " _Are_  you? What's your name?"

"Watanuki Kimihiro."

"Huh. Your name was on the locker I collapsed in front of."

"I know. Doumeki told me." Watanuki sneaks a look at him over his shoulder. Doumeki won't look him in the eyes.

"Did you used to go to our school?"

Watanuki thinks about lying but decides not to. "Yes."

"Himawari got much more frightened when I told her the name of the locker she was stuck in."

"She has her reasons." Watanuki clears his throat. "You could say that we aren't good for each other."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it's none of your business," Watanuki says mildly.

Muun glares at him.

Watanuki sighs. "I'll say only this. Believe me, Hisaki-kun, when I say it was an accident. Neither Himawari nor myself bear you any ill will. Despite everything, we are friends. What happens when our spheres of influence touch is beyond our control. Supernatural things are drawn to us, and we nearly always make each other's problems much, much worse. It's our fate, you understand? You happened to get caught in the crossfire, so to speak. But it was _not_  intentional, and we never meant it to happen. You must believe this."

Muun mulls on this for a while. "So, what you're saying is, you and Himawari are incompatible..." he concludes, "but you still...?"

Watanuki nods.

"This is weird," Muun mutters.

When Doumeki's just about finished up on his arm, Watanuki finally remembers the immediate thing left to do that could prevent more ugly incidents.

"What is it?" asks Doumeki, without looking up.

"Could you remove all the labels with my name from the school? I think the school will fill my place once they're gone. Right now they've probably forgotten about me. If I don't own anything there, Himawari shouldn't run into any more trouble because of me."

Doumeki shuts his eyes and agrees.

"Am  _I_  going to forget you?" asks Muun.

Watanuki shakes his head. "Not until I disappear, or until you want to. That reminds me. I assume that you wished to be healed yesterday?"

"Yes."

"I am the keeper of this wishing shop, so don't think my services are for free. What kind of payment do you think would be appropriate?"

"What—" Muun says faintly.

Watanuki's tone turns businesslike. "Money doesn't quite work for me. Think of this exchange as a barter system. It has to be a payment that pertains to you personally, but equal in value. Whether it's worth anything to me is irrelevant; in my line of work,  _hitsuzen_  will take care of it. Also, you're not paying alone. Himawari will have to pay something, too."

"I can't begin to think of anything." Muun shook his head.

"Think about what you came for. Healing. All told, it was pretty easy this time. Think about what healing means for you."

"I could…get you some first aid supplies?" Muun guesses.

"The object in question should already be in your possession," Watanuki hints, and waits for the shop's latent powers of suggestion to kick in.

After a minute, his face clears. "Oh.  _Oh_. I've got crutches, will that work? I haven't used them since I twisted my ankle a couple years ago. I'll get them to you in a day or two."

Watanuki tries to smile, though he's got a bad feeling about this. "Yes, that should work just fine." When he glances to the side, he can see Doumeki's jaw locked in a grimace, and he's staring hard at the wall. Watanuki leans over and snaps his fingers in Doumeki's face. "Oi, Doumeki. I'll be fine," he says sharply. "Nobody's going to get hurt."

Doumeki jerks back and expels the breath he'd been holding in a huff. "Of course." But he doesn't believe him.

Right now, even Watanuki doesn't feel quite so confident as he should that disaster won't be coming soon. When it comes to Himawari,  _hitsuzen_  is always much too strong. Watanuki isn't sure how many ripples Himawari will make in his fate this time. There's always the possibility that there will be one too many. Unfortunately, even as a seer, it's impossible to see his own future.

That doesn't mean he can leave Doumeki to dwell on it and make himself sick, though. He'd been doing enough of that even without the business with Himawari.

Muun stares at them both, a little bewildered. "Is it a bad price?" he tries to ask.

Watanuki shakes his head. "No, the balance is just right. I felt it. To be perfectly honest, that's all I can focus on right now. My art isn't sufficiently advanced. I keep making mistakes. You're definitely not the one in the wrong, remember?"

"Right," Muun says uncertainly.

"It's about time you went to school. I promised Himawari you'd be there for her to see. She was worried sick for you."

"Uh, right. Is Doumeki coming, too?"

Doumeki says, "After breakfast."

"Oh."

"Watanuki makes very good breakfasts." Doumeki looks like he's searching for words to make small talk, but isn't actually interested in it. In fact, he looks a little scary.

"I see…" Muun mumbles, wishing he could sink into the floor.

Muun really can't figure them out, but he doesn't have to. All he has to do is get back to school and away from these strange people, and maybe later deliver the crutches he promised. He sighs. Nothing that happened to him ever since he simply "stopped breathing" really makes sense. Himawari was involved somehow, so maybe she could explain at least a little. But any way he looks at it, this situation is simply bizarre. He, an ordinary student, could hardly belong here in this mystery.

_It feels like a fluke. An accident. Coincidence._

And what was the word Watanuki spoke of?  _Hitsuzen._

Muun knows no such thing as luck.


	5. Consequential Friends

Muun goes to school, Doumeki hovering disinterestedly a few paces behind him. Himawari spots them at the gate, and waves, but she looks troubled and doesn't step out towards Muun to greet him.

But then again, she doesn't run away.

While they are standing stock-still with indecision, Doumeki impatiently brushes past to walk through the gate.

Doumeki is still upset after all, Himawari thinks, with some dismay, craning her neck to watch him go.

Muun takes a deep breath. "Good morning, Himawari-chan," he says, as he would on a normal day.

"Hello, Muun-kun," replies, subdued.

"Shall we go to class?"

"Yes," she says simply.

It was a disappointing reunion, but at least they were together.

* * *

"Oy, Muun. I heard you confessed yesterday!" someone shouts.

"Yeah, where'd you disappear to with Kunogi-san?" comes the arrogant question.

"I heard she ran and hid in her locker!" in a tone of wonder.

"Eeee—?!" gasp the girls.

" _So you said—_ " "So **how was** —" "HOW'D YOUR—" "—s _peaking your—_ " "— **feelings**  of _—_ " " _ **CONFESSION!**_ " "— _end up_?" "—TURN OUT?" " **Go well?!** "

Everyone shouts over one another.

Muun sits down at his seat and ignores them all, one hand pressed to his temple. Their yelling is giving him a headache...

"Are you feeling well?" asks a girl in a quiet voice. The class representative.

He shakes his head, and whisperes, " _just for right now..._ "

She nods and walks to the front of the class, raising both hands to draw their attention to her. "Everyone!  _Minna-san!_ "

"Awww, class-prez, he's just faking it!" someone complains.

She slams her hands down, palms to the floor, simultaneously capturing their attention and expressing desperation for quiet. "Be quiet! Right now! And if I hear another word from you—!"

In a few minutes everything is calm and no one is trying to shout or yell or talk to Muun anymore, but the air seethes with unanswered questions and confused accusations, dismissal and disgust.

* * *

Himawari slides open the door to enter the classroom and the room turns absolutely silent. The whole class stares at her.

Feeling the hair rising on the back of her neck, Himawari finds her seat and sits down. Her friends come and speak to her in low voices to ask well-meaning questions.

She does not like this at all. It would have been better if the class had hounded her as she had been expecting, for she did not know what anyone was thinking.

* * *

"How was class?" asks Himawari, when they first happened to pass in the halls.

"Utterly horrible," says Muun, stopping only briefly.

"Mine too," says Himawari, and continues in the opposite direction.

"Talk later?" Muun calls.

She waves.

As soon as she is gone, the hall erupts in noise and sound and movement. Feeling as if he were being chased, Muun ducks and skids through the mob to get to his next class.

* * *

Doumeki comes with them when they went home that day, because Muun needed to deliver the crutches. Muun can feel Doumeki's tenseness and irritation seeping from within him with every step. Himawari clutches her satchel and looks preoccupied. Once they got to Muun's doorstep, Muun fetches the crutches, and delivers them into Doumeki's hands; then Doumeki leaves.

Glancing around, Himawari lingers on the front step.

"Is it okay if we talk now?" asks Muun. "Would you come inside? I can make tea."

Himawari shakes her head. "No, thanks."

"Are you sure?"

Himawari shakes her head more vigorously. "The risk..." she mumbles to herself.

"Bad luck again?" asks Muun.

She looks away. "Yes."

"We need to talk," Muun says.

"I know." Himawari shifts her feet restlessly.

"How...how do you believe your bad luck works?" Muun asks, knowing the question sounds stilted. It has to be, because he doesn't believe in her luck but in order to make any sense of this situation, he knows he has to descend to her level.

"Through touch," Himawari answers.

Muun guesses, "So...you don't want to contaminate anything in my house."

She nods.

"I'm fine with it," Muun offers.

"I'm  _not_ ," Himawari says tightly. "You don't know the...consequences..." Her hands tighten on the handle of her school bag.

"Okay," says Muun, calm, trying to control his sudden alarm. "Then...we should stay outside?"

"Yes."

"How about the back porch, then?" Muun scratches the back of his head.

"All right."

Relieved, Muun leads her behind the house and they sit on the concrete house steps.

"What should we talk about first?" she asks.

"First of all, I want to know your story. How you see the situation. What you think happened last night. I don't think we will communicate on the same wavelength until you do, and I don't want to scare you or offend you like it seems I did yesterday."

"You didn't," Himawari says distantly. "That was me being stupid."

"At the very least, it will be counter-productive to leave me in the dark."

That's Muun. Ever logical.

At length Himawari agrees, and she begins in a hushed voice. "One day, there was girl who..."

* * *

"So you believe you were responsible for all that?" Muun asks. "The accidents, your grandmother, the fire...?"

"And many other small incidents over the years I didn't tell you about. The fact has been confirmed by people I trust, not just the priest. And if I had any doubt, what happened to Watanuki ended it completely," Himawari says grimly.

"What happened to Watanuki? He wouldn't say."

"Well he wouldn't, would he, to protect me. He didn't know what you knew so he couldn't say." Himawari smooths her skirt. "He draws spirits to him. I draw bad luck. Whenever he touched me, it didn't go well. The first time, Watanuki invited me to  _Hyakumonogatari,_  to tell ghost stories with him, and I drew the spirits of the dead. Fortunately Doumeki's power is purity, so he dispelled them. Once we traded cookies for my dream, and unwittingly he took my bad dream. The third time...Watanuki made a promise to me, and hurt the pinky of his left hand."

"How?"

"It was a pinky-promise; I didn't think anything of it... ' _Yubikiri-genman uso tsuitara, hari-senbon nomasu yubi kitta...'_ "

"Did he break it? The promise?" That kind of reason he could understand, Muun thinks.

Himawari shakes her head. "The next time I touched him, his pinky broke permanently, and he fell out the second-story window of the school. That finger will never move again."

"Why don't I remember that?" Muun asked himself, but Himawari answered anyway.

"The wishing shop—that's the place that you went—doesn't entirely exist in this time, and Watanuki removed himself from the world." Himawari kicked her legs. "That's why no one remembers him. Besides myself and Doumeki and another girl he saved, only his customers know him. But unless they are spirits themselves, or people with magical power, even they forget."

"So I'll forget again?"

Himawari shrugs. "I don't know. Doumeki and I, we haven't tried to remind anyone on purpose. So maybe not, if you need to know."

"I hope not," Muun says quietly.

"I, too."

"I think I should say, I don't buy into your reality completely..."

"Muun-kun wouldn't be Muun-kun if he did." Himawari glances at him. "I know it's hard to swallow. I was afraid that you would reject me, but the least I can do is let you be a skeptic."

"But you have reason. I shouldn't dismiss that," Muun says quietly.

Himawari is tired, but she says, "Thank you."

They stay quiet for the next few moments.

"Himawari-chan?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you remember what I said to you while you in the locker?"

Himawari sits ramrod-straight, with shock. "I—ah—"

Muun rushes to say, "It's all right if you've forgotten, I just—"

"No, I—I remember—" she stammers quickly.

But Muun stands and jumps off the steps, and says in a rush, "I want to say this clearly. I like you, Himawari-chan. Would you go out with me?" He bows, and waits for her reply.

Himawari slowly rises to her feet. "I cannot."

Muun straightens back up, and looks her in the eyes. "But would you want to?"

"I—I don't know."

"All right then." Muun sighs and sits back down on the porch beside her. "At least I've got an answer. Is there someone else you like?"

Himawari shakes her head and drops back down. "There was," she murmurs, "But it doesn't matter anymore."

"It was Watanuki, wasn't it?"

She nods.

Muun sighs again. "Can't be helped then, can it?"

"I'm afraid not."

"I've still got a chance, though?"

"If I didn't have this curse. If we knew each other better, maybe," Himawari replies.

"Friends?"

She smiles. "Okay then. Friends."

* * *

School got better once they actually had a reply to all the questions. The students quickly lost interest in Muun's rejected love, and Himawari's class goes back to normal once they realize that Himawari hasn't actually taken up with anyone, and is just as free as she always was. Nothing of significance really changed.

Himawari and Muun talked and studied together when they could, often with a few other friends. But what did not go unnoticed was that while their other friends come and went, they had become the two constants in their study group.

Doumeki warmed up to Muun only very slowly, but from what Himawari knew of him, his attention was truly elsewhere. A good part of it was with Watanuki and his continued well-being, of course, but also on the drama within his own family and his uncertain future. From what little he had told her, Doumeki was supposed to be the heir of the Buddhist temple, he had thought, but family politics had unexpectedly come into play and his parents strongly urged him to take a different path, or at least to delay entering the family business. After the very long time it took to convince him to at least prepare for another path, Doumeki's free time was busy with college preparation. Sometimes Himawari wondered what was left for him to study; to her, Doumeki seemed to know everything. While some of his excuses to get out of social invitations were true, she was equally sure he was intent on isolating himself apart from seeing Watanuki after school some days and on the weekends. It was his way of mourning, she thought, and on top of that he was worried and stressed.

There was little she could do about it other than to keep trying to coax him out of his shell. Doumeki responded only halfway most of the time. Muun understood to an extent, but he was puzzled by Himawari's concern. He had never witnessed the friendship Watanuki and Doumeki had shared. What Himawari knew was that, regardless of how Watanuki felt and how much they fought, Watanuki was one of the few people Doumeki had ever truly connected with. These days, Doumeki walked around as if a large piece had been ripped out of his spirit and the edges were still smarting. Doumeki had always been curt, but now his manner was brusque and bitter to the point of deliberate rudeness.

So the senior year of high school passed. When exams came, Muun and Himawari conferred on their college plans, and applied together.

Doumeki applied for a local college and stayed where he was. This was not a surprise.


	6. Confidante

Upon returning from elementary school, Kohane spots Doumeki loitering on the steps of  _obaachan_ 's house as she opens the gate to enter. He looks up quickly, hearing the squeal of the hinges. He looks her up and down, then returns his troubled gaze to his feet. This is probably the first time he has seen her wear a school uniform. The color is white—a plain, round-collared blouse, and a modest orange ribbon—and a long brown skirt. It suits her. Kohane walks into the garden, calmly closing the gate behind her.

Since Watanuki took over the wishing shop, Doumeki made himself scarce. She hasn't seen him in a very long time.

"Good afternoon," Doumeki says in a low monotone.

Kohane nods in greeting and walks past him to unlock door, then ushers him to come inside. After a slight pause, Doumeki does so, following her to the low table where he seats himself cross-legged. Kohane fetches a few snacks and drinks and puts the plate on the table between them, then seats herself.

"It seems  _o_ _baachan_ 's not home right now, but she knows you, so she won't mind," Kohane tells him. "Did you just come to visit, or...?"

Doumeki shakes his head vehemently.

"Then...?" Kohane's voice falls.

"I just wanted to see...someone," Doumeki forces himself to say. "Someone who knows. About him. I couldn't...I couldn't think."

Kohane bites her lip. "I'm sorry."

Neither of them are very good at this. Talking.

Doumeki looks down at his hands. Nods. His expression is set, pulled tight around the eyes so she knows he's not ready to speak.

She thinks over what she just said and blanches. "I'm sorry," she says again, and embarrassment suffuses her cheeks with color. "I only meant, I'm sorry you've been lonely. Not...not that...I'm glad you've come to me."

"It's not your fault," Doumeki says.

"I—I wasn't sure," says Kohane, blinking. "I—I thought maybe you wouldn't want me to interfere."

Doumeki is motionless for a few moments; then he lowers his head. "Maybe at first," he says, without emotion. But it's there, just a little; she can see how much it costs him to make even this admission.

Kohane laughs, weak and watery, sort of like a sob or maybe like a hiccup. It's a sound he's never heard before. As long as they've known her, even when it was so hard, she never made a single sound when she cried.

Doumeki's hands clench in his lap.

"You're angry with him, aren't you." Kohane leans forward. "Can you bear it, for a little longer?"

Doumeki bends—almost unwillingly, but he nods, and forces himself to loosen his fists.

"It's just...it's been so long."

Doumeki doesn't contradict her. He nods again, just as stiffly.

"I wanted to speak to you before, but...you seemed to be handling it for the last year...and I was settling in with  _obaachan_ , but I wondered if I could help," Kohane says softly. "But it just didn't seem right, then. I wasn't sure if you were ready to accept assistance. But since you've come to me like this after all this time, I will ask you if I can help. There's only a little I can do, but I don't think this burden is something you should shoulder alone. Taking care of him has worn you down."

Doumeki shifts uncomfortably. He doesn't seem to know what to do with that. Unable to accept, yet...

"Tell me?" she pleads with him. "Tell me what it's like?"

It's hard to describe the change that occurs in front of her, but with a slight shudder, he inexplicably unwinds. As if this was the thing he was waiting for. The thing he's been wanting to get off his chest and couldn't. Tentatively, he reaches forward across the table. Kohane touches his hand, lightly, with the tips of her fingers, and Doumeki closes his eyes.

"Please?" she asks again.

Doumeki opens his eyes, and opens his mouth. At first the words are soundless, but he finds his voice again and the words pile one on top of the other, and on and on, nearly effortlessly. He allows his mind to float, to divorce itself from the pain, and leave the words behind. He doesn't think, he simply speaks.

 _Every day,_  he begins, shakily, _I buy the groceries after school and take them to Watanuki's house, and I go inside. Some days he is sleeping, or cooking, sometimes he is re-sewing Yuuko's wardrobe. Some days I find him covered in blood. Some days he hides his injuries so I won't see them. But I know him. So I never let him. But every discovery sickens me, and I find myself becoming more and more desperate, while he doesn't change. Someday I won't be able to tell. I want to shake him until he listens to my anger, but I'm afraid I would only hurt him to no purpose. He has suffered enough, and I don't want to hurt him at all._ Doumeki swallows, and repeats,  _I don't want to hurt him._

 __Ever since Yuuko disappeared he's been waiting. He thinks about her and talks about her until I want to throttle him, but he doesn't realize he's doing it—remembering her, emulating her. Pretending to be her. He won't accept that she's gone, he's always trying to reconstruct her and make her alive again. _H _e's not her, and never will be. But it's as if h _e's lost now and I can't get him back. He will simply continue to exist there in that shop, alone. And he doesn't know why that is wrong._____ Doumeki shakes his head.  _He's waiting for a ghost. It doesn't matter that it's a ghost we both knew. He loved a ghost once, and I made him lose her. He was so angry, he might never have spoken to me again. This time isn't any different... But even if I dared to risk crossing him again to earn his hate, I can't choose for him._

__I should have stopped him from going back. I shouldn't have let him in the shop at all. He should never have known that death had taken Yuuko. He can't take her place as shopkeeper, he doesn't know enough. He doesn't know the first thing about right payments, and every mistake takes from his body. _Yet he is no more careful than he ever was.__ _ _How am I to know when he loses so much blood, or injures himself so badly, that he can't survive another wish? If he faints from anemia, or from a miasma, or he loses himself in dreams—how am I supposed to know that this time, sleep is innocent, not fatal?_

_I come to him every day after school and it's always the same, food and drink and the friendly words, and he makes everything out to be fine before I find out his latest stunt. Something always went wrong. He complains when I take care of him, but he knows he can't do everything by himself. It worries me, and angers me_ _. That I can't trust him to even take care of himself._

"Sometimes I want to hate him." Doumeki comes back to himself, and stops talking. He looks at the ground.

For a while, Kohane doesn't say anything. "But you don't hate him. You love him, don't you?" Kohane whispers. "And that only makes it worse for you, because you feel rejected. He is certainly a fool, and you are right to be angry. But he hasn't forgotten us."

He shrugs.

Kohane insists, "If he had, he would have made it so no one could ever reach him. But he let you." Doumeki doesn't respond. In a burst of inspiration, Kohane says, "Kimihiro-kun chose Yuuko, but he made it so we would always be together. It was a compromise between the forces he couldn't control and the course of his own heart. He didn't mean to hurt you."

Doumeki looks up.

"It didn't have to be Yuuko. If any of us had disappeared, he might well have done the same. Because he needs us. This way, as the shopkeeper, we'll always know where he is. He'll know where we are. He'll watch us grow old. We will be there for him. He can watch over us." Kohane shrugs slightly. "That is his happiness, whether he ages with us or not."

"Then he doesn't understand that his choice can only lead to pain."

" _Not_  only." Kohane shakes her head. "But he will see the pain only when he has to."

"Why  _must_  he—" Doumeki scowls.

Kohane sighs. "Because Kimihiro-kun is Kimihiro-kun, and he only learns through his mistakes. Or rather, he must realize when that he has made a mistake in the first place. Only he would be tempted to walk this path. What seems clear to us does not occur to him."

Doumeki drops his voice low. "A mistake such as this one?"

"You said he won't be dissuaded. Kimihiro-kun isn't the only one dealing with grief. You are grieving for him, too."

Doumeki falls silent.

"It is not good to be sad together. You need some time on your own," Kohane continues. "You've worn yourself out trying to understand, and there is no understanding." She pauses. "Why won't you tell him you love him?"

"I don't even know what my feelings are for him," says Doumeki, gazing sightlessly at the table. "All I know is that I want be the one who protects him and gives him what he needs. How is that so different from a servant? I am content, since he requires it."

He doesn't sound content. He sounds frustrated.

"He needs you in other ways," Kohane presses. "And he does want you there."

"It doesn't feel like it." Doumeki shakes his head. "Something is missing."

Kohane sits straighter. "What is missing is his recognition. He is missing your feelings," she asserts. "He's cruel without meaning to be, because he is acting on an assumption that never was. But he won't see the whole picture until you tell him."

She may be on to something.

"But do I even love him?" Doumeki asks. "I do not know. What do I see in him after all? Why do I want to be closer to him than I am now? Why does he push me away? Nothing...nothing is reasonable. Even when I'm angry with him, I...can't leave him alone."

"Shizuka-kun, that  _is_  love," Kohane says gently. _"_ If you do not push, if you do not make mistakes, you will not find the answers to your questions." _  
_

"But how _could_  he accept me? He dislikes me. He finds me irritating. And he annoys me as well."

"Only he can answer that. But wouldn't it shock him enough? Force him to reconsider?" Kohane asks.

"Surely not from me." Doumeki slumps.

"Kimihiro-kun may surprise himself," Kohane says, surprisingly firmly.

Doumeki shakes his head.

Kohane purses her lips. Since the argument doesn't seem to be going anywhere, she decides to leave that topic aside. "It's not just Kimihiro-kun, though, is it?" Kohane asks. "There's more bothering you, isn't there?"

Doumeki nods. "My family," he says, and sighs deeply. "And..."

"The future," she supplies.

"Yes. For these past months, I have hardly had the time or energy to look outside myself..."

"I will help if I can." Kohane nudges the snack tray in front of her, and Doumeki reluctantly take something to eat, and sips the tea. Although he tastes it tentatively at first, he seems satisfied, and the offer of food does seem to calm him down slightly. Kohane is glad to see it.

Well, food that is trusted is a kind of safety...

"Do you know that you and Kimihiro-kun are my closest friends?" Kohane asks him.

Doumeki blinks.

"Yes, you too," says Kohane. "Back then, you both rescued me. I will always be grateful."

"I was only there because I was helping Watanuki."

"You cared about me too."

Doumeki looks away. "Only by the end."

"No. You did, too."

Putting a cookie into his mouth, Doumeki crunches on it slowly. "I will accept your offer of help in regards to Watanuki." He swallows. "If you don't mind coming with me."

"Doumeki-kun, what else?" Kohane asks him.

"Things," says Doumeki, pondering. "Things I don't know how to explain. They've been happening to me lately."

Kohane waits.

"I—" Doumeki stops. "I see things. Visions. Insights. Truths. Differently from the way Watanuki sees things. I know what  _he_  knows, but I don't think he knows what I see through my eyes. But I do."

"Visions, but not dreams."

Doumeki shrugs. "If you heard Watanuki talk...You would hardly know what is and is not a dream anymore. It doesn't seem to matter."

"Could it be your spiritual ability?" Kohane asks. "Your gift?"

"I am afraid so." Doumeki looks at the table. "Perhaps it's growing."

The air is filled with a small, poignant silence.

"Your grandfather then," Kohane says at last.

Doumeki nods.

"And yet?"

"Everything feels...wrong," Doumeki says flatly. "I do not know what I must do. All of my attempts..." he closes his eyes.

"What is it?"

"My parents forbade me join the Buddhist temple," says Doumeki, and opens his eyes again. "There is no money in it, they say. Aiming to become the head priest, which is the only rank worth aiming for, they say, will take decades to maneuver. None of my other family has even a shadow of my grandfather's ability. So...I allowed myself to be dissuaded." He looks exhausted. "It seemed that I would learn little worth knowing."

"Leaving you nowhere," she surmises.

"Yes."

"Are the visions so hard to deal with?" Kohane asks.

"They come on suddenly without warning. Not terribly disruptive...only surprising. And blunt with the truth." Doumeki falls silent. "They hardly make sense even to me. I am simply a mouthpiece."

"So it will make people look at you strangely."

"Yes."

"Does it bother you?"

"No." Doumeki takes a deep breath. "But this— It seems to have nothing to do with my future. And I thought— It seemed like it should. But now it never will. I am unable to follow in my grandfather's footsteps. What good is a gift, if I will never know how it should be used to help people? Not even Watanuki seems to be aware of it."

Kohane lightly lays a hand on his arm. "But you  _will_ ," she says, and pulls it back again.

Doumeki squints at her.

So she explains. "Simply by being alive, by going about your daily business...you help people. People you will never know, but people who needed to hear what you said. The things you say need not make sense to you. But those people will understand it, and by hearing your vision of the truth it will change them, though you will not hear back from them. Because you were led to them by  _hitsuzen._ That is the nature of your gift, and it does not need to be honed at all. It is a potent thing in and of itself. It is a great gift."

He frowns. "But why would they listen? Sometimes I think I must be going mad."

Kohane simply smiles. "Anyone might, Doumeki-kun. Anyone at all. And it's all right if they think you are strange. If the truth matters to them, you will shock them, and they will listen. If a vision comes to you, it must be something they needed to hear. You can choose, Doumeki-kun. You can choose whichever future you wish, and you can not go wrong. Why don't you do that, Doumeki-kun? Do what makes you happy."


	7. Truth or Don't

Kohane nervously tugs Doumeki's sleeve as they get closer to the wishing shop. Doumeki nods to her gravely. Kohane looks up with a shy smile, and takes a deep breath, lifting the bag of groceries as she does before letting them hang again.

"I see. You're nervous too," she says. "Every time, is it intimidating like this?"

Doumeki nods, and puts his hand on the wrought-iron gate, and pushes—the gate resists—and he pushes again. The gate eases open. They step into the quiet garden. This afternoon, the plants are wet from rain shower. The green scent of ozone and young growing things lingers.

"Ame-warashi," Kohane whispers to him. The spirit has just left.

"Ah," says Doumeki, and he becomes perceptibly less tense. Probably nothing to worry about today, then.

Watanuki comes to the door, and leans in the way. With the cloak draped around his shoulders and dramatically covering his arms, he looks—oddly regal. "Ah, hello, come in. Kohane-chan too?"

Kohane smiles at him and greets him with a good afternoon.

"I'm glad you've come," he says, and glances at Doumeki, who shrugs slightly. "I've been wanting to see you, Kohane, and ask how you're doing in person. The phone isn't enough, but I know you've been busy. Do come see me whenever you wish."

Kohane bows slightly. "Thank you."

"The rain spirit just left, so you have good timing," Watanuki continued. "Would you mind doing me a favor?" He holds the door open a little wider with his left hand. "I'll explain as we visit."

"Of course not, Kimihiro-kun," Kohane says softly, stepping up to the porch. Doumeki ducks his head and follows.

"I'll make tea," Watanuki says quickly, shaking out his sleeves, and rushes off. "Make yourself at home!"

They obediently file into the dining room and seat themselves at the low table. Kohane glances at Doumeki's face, and freezes. He is staring hard at the wall, gazing beyond it with a fixed, stricken look on his face. Dread mixed with psychic pain washes over Kohane's senses. It's a little frightening.

Kohane nudges him to get his attention. He turns to her in surprise. "He's hiding something?" she asks, as quietly as she can.

"Maybe," says Doumeki, between clenched teeth. It's a lie so as not to frighten Kohane, but she knows instantly that he is convinced of the opposite. He is very sure.

"I'll be watching," she murmurs, and Doumeki frowns. "Do you want me to catch him at it?" she asks.

Doumeki's eyebrows press together. He glances at her, then around, and the look of him is uneasy. He's not sure.

"I won't be hasty," Kohane promises. "But maybe there is a better way to solve this than the one you have found?"

Doumeki swallows his pride, shakes his head, and tells her, "I haven't solved anything at all."

Kohane nods. "Will you let me try?"

"Please."

And then they have to stop talking, because Watanuki is back, carrying a pot of tea rather awkwardly: his left hand holds the handle, the weak pinky sticking out, and his right supports from the side, using a pot holder, with his sleeve fully extended. "Hot!" he hisses, puts it down between them, and dashes off, tucking one arm under the other.

"That didn't look right," Doumeki murmurs, deeply troubled, at the same time as Kohane says, "It's his right hand."

They stare at each other.

"I could sense it," says Kohane, gesturing to her wrist. "And he's right-handed."

"Awkward grip," Doumeki mutters to himself. "He never forgets things like that. He doesn't like it when people see his pinky. I'm sorry this is happening on your first visit, Kohane..." He begins to brood.

Kohane pats his upper arm. "Shizuka-kun."

"Yes." He gives her his attention.

"He really does this every time?"

"Yes," Doumeki replies, exhausted. "If there's something to hide, that is, and he thinks he can get away with it. Which he has. I once didn't notice an injury of his for two weeks. It wasn't major, but he hadn't treated it properly."

"Did you yell at him?"

Doumeki goes quiet. "I tried."

He's not very good at yelling, either. Just glaring. And at the time, making a fuss just didn't feel worth it. He felt defeated and disappointed, but he hadn't felt angry. Now he thought that...perhaps that had been a mistake.

It  _is_  hard to imagine Doumeki shouting, even if he had reason to. Kohane nods. "But at least you taught him not to make that mistake again."

"If he remembers how." Surprised, Doumeki turns to her. "How did you know?"

"Because it's just like you, Shizuka-kun," says Kohane, smiling. "And it is well that you did so."

"Well, he can't live by himself this foolishly forever," Doumeki says gruffly. "I'm not omnipotent."

Kohane smiles. "Of course not. You want what's best for him."

Doumeki's cheeks heat just a little. "I want...him... to want..." he breathes, barely audible, " _me_ ," and takes a deep breath, glancing nervously at the kitchen. In a low but gentle voice, he continues, "but I'm not that selfish. He's not mine to keep to myself. Even though he's always in danger like this. What if I couldn't get to him in time? He has to know how to take care of himself."

Kohane turns sad. "You always have to think about those things, don't you."

Doumeki glances at her, and says nothing.

So she knows what it means to have thoughts like these, too. Probably about her mother.

The food—at least that is what Doumeki assumes is taking Watanuki so long—seems to be taking longer in coming. He half rises. "Should we check on him?" he wonders. Kohane listens intently, and shakes her head. Doumeki sinks back down.

Watanuki comes out with a plate of something-or-other and snack drinks. "The food is still cooking," he says airily, and shakes out his sleeves. "I'll get it somehow."

Doumeki fixes Watanuki with an angry  _look_.

"What?" says Watanuki, defensively.

 _"I'll get it,"_  Doumeki snaps, and stomps off. Kohane doesn't stop him. Watanuki seems dismayed, and is almost about to call after him, but he bites it back and stops himself.

With an effort, he turns himself back to the table to fully focus on Kohane. "How are you, Kohane-chan?" he asks, stretching a weak smile to begin with.

"Very well lately, Watanuki-kun." Kohane smiles back. She's been doing it more and more lately.

This time, Watanuki loses his preoccupation and returns the smile more genuinely. "I'm glad to hear it. What is living with  _obaachan_  like?"

"I love her. She spoils me so much." Kohane speaks rapturously. "She teaches me all kinds of things. She chatters about the neighbors, and the birds outside, and she notices the things in nature. She knows so much. I just started school again. She made me study at home, you know, all last year, until the media forgot about me."

"Hahaha. How is school?" Watanuki asks, his expression falling a little as if he'd rather avoid the topic altogether.

"Not bad. Nobody remembers me," Kohane says shyly.

"Probably a good thing," he predicts.

"Yes, a very good thing!" she exclaims, leaning forward, laughing.

Watanuki smiles again. "That's good to hear. Have you made any friends?"

"Not yet," she says, her enthusiasm waning. "But I think soon," she adds. "We've only just begun."

"I'm sure you will. Nobody who truly knows you could hate you. I'm so glad for you." And he is.

It is worth it to come, just for this. Watanuki's words make her glow inside, and she knows her news does the same for him. The rest of the visit may not be so pleasant, but she doesn't want to let go of this precious feeling entirely.

Doumeki comes back with a glass plate of something—a casserole?—and sets it on the table, muttering under his breath. He sits down and his eyes narrow. "Why are we eating with forks?"

"It's a Western dish."

Doumeki rolls his eyes.

"The nice chopsticks are all being washed."

That's obviously a lie.

"Could you just stop being difficult?" Watanuki snaps entirely preemptively. "Do you have to question everything I do?"

Doumeki shakes his head.

"Typical," Watanuki huffs. "Don't learn from his rudeness, Kohane!"

Kohane just sighs. "Let's eat, Shizuka-kun, Watanuki-kun.  _Itadakimasu._ "

Their eyes meet. " _Itadakimasu_ ," the boys intone, grudgingly, but a period of truce is commenced. The recipe is strange to them all, but it is delicious as ever. That never changes.

"How's work, Watanuki? Weren't you going to tell us?" Kohane asks.

Watanuki darts a quick glance at Doumeki that he's probably hoping she won't see. "Like I said, the Ame-Warashi wants a favor. She's looking for an old artifact. But I don't recognize it at all."

"I studied some esoteric objects before, with my mother," Kohane says. "Maybe I'd recognize it."

He describes it. She doesn't know it. Stumped, she turns to Doumeki. "Shizuka-kun, do you know?"

Doumeki shakes his head. "No."

"What are you taking at university, Doumeki?"

Doumeki considers. "Mostly sciences. General requirements...Folklore," he divulges reluctantly.

Watanuki raises his eyebrows. "Would you be willing to run the description by your folklore professor if I wrote it down?"

"If I can get his attention," says Doumeki, promising nothing, although he knows he will still do it. He had half suspected that something like this would happen.

"Thanks," Watanuki says swiftly. "I'm sure you will."

Doumeki isn't as confident. He has some presentiments about the task. There seems to be the distinct possibility that his future could change unexpectedly if he pursues the matter, and it makes him uneasy. Not that he has a clear picture of his future, anyway.

Suddenly he isn't hungry anymore. He finishes lunch and puts down his fork.

Watanuki is too pleased to notice. "Good, that takes a load off my mind! I can tell the Ame-Warashi I will be looking into the matter soon." He stacks Doumeki's plate on top of his own and Kochoushu's.

"Did you have some other matter left to clear up first?" Doumeki asks the table.

Watanuki looks up, and his expression breaks up and quickly changes. "Oh, yes. Of course. There was."

"What happened?" asks Kohane, leaning forward, chin on her hands.

"Ahhh..." Watanuki looks between them both, and scratches his head. "I can't talk about that one."

"Is that how you hurt your wrist?" Kohane asks, pointing.

Watanuki flushes and looks away. "Yes. So you knew..."

"Yes, I do," she says.

"Ha. Hahahaha. Of course you do. I'm an idiot aren't I..." Watanuki laughs without humor.

"Break or sprain?"

Watanuki flushes again and fidgets. "Not sure. Either way, it will heal, won't it?"

Kohane doesn't take her eyes off of Watanuki. "Doumeki, could you ask Yuuko's storage room for Yuuko's book of medicines?"

Doumeki nods, and leaves.

"Tell me the truth," Kohane says, with eerie calm.

"I'm not lying about the confidentiality agreement. He paid for it." Watanuki rakes his fingers through his hair.

Kohane blinks impatiently. "I'm not asking about him. I'm asking about you."

"I see." Watanuki thinks for a minute. "It was an accident. I miscalculated one of the prices, and I tripped over Mokona later that day and fell on my wrist. She feels guilty. I think she and the girls are hiding in the attic right now. Anyhow, that guy has been spooling out what seem like minor transactions for a couple of days, and I haven't been able to figure out to stop him. At some point, it's going to end, but I don't know when."

"He seems dangerous. Be careful."

"In the end, he probably will be, yes. I only just figured out a way to stop him." Watanuki fidgets uncomfortably. "If it works."

Kohane says, "Shizuka says you bleed when you miscalculate a price."

"Well. Sometimes I just bruise. This could be just that. It could be worse."

"Hmmm." She closes her eyes to reflect.

Doumeki comes back with the book, a splint, tape, and gauze. Kohane and Watanuki read the book together before announcing that they guess it's a sprain. Doumeki doesn't look convinced, but there really isn't a way to summon a doctor to check, and none of them know enough about pressure points.

While Doumeki is still wrapping up Watanuki's arm, Kohane stands and walks over to where Watanuki is sitting, and puts one hand on top of his head. Green eyes look deep into his mismatched ones."Watanuki, Shizuka-kun and I need to leave now, but I want you to promise us something."

Watanuki looks wary. "Not a wish."

"No. A promise is another kind of exchange of feelings. Will you promise?"

"All right."

"I want you to promise that you won't hide your injuries to either of us any more, and that you'll tell us about them as soon as we come to see you. I know you don't want to worry us," Kohane continues, and bends towards his ear so she can speak softer, "but that only makes Shizuka-kun worry more. I mean it. He's frantic."

Doumeki's expression doesn't change, he doesn't look at either of them and acts as if he hasn't heard. He could hardly look less frantic; if anything, he appears even more sullen and surly than usual.

Watanuki's eyes slide sideways. "He always finds out anyway."

"He's afraid that someday he won't find out. Won't you take pity on him?"

"R-ridiculous!" Watanuki protests, eyes flashing. "If that's what he feels like, he should tell me!"

That should have been Doumeki's cue, but he doesn't glance up from the floor. He probably doesn't feel up to taking the bait. Of all times for Doumeki to be mulish and unresponsive...

 _It's hardly fair, putting the onus on him when you're the one hiding things from him_ , thinks Kohane, and grimaces. The trouble is, she understands Watanuki. Too well. "If you can't see it, then you are being both proud and stubborn," she says quietly.

" _I hate being weak_.  _I will not be seen as weak,_ " Watanuki hisses, just under his breath. "Just because I am dependent now doesn't mean I will be this way forever!"

"I know," she says placatingly.

"I won't let him see me like this.  _Especially_  him."

Kohane guesses, "Because you think he's strong. Stronger than you."

"He is!  _Inordinately_! Inhumanly!"

"He's not," Kohane says sadly.

Watanuki glowers. "Well, how am  _I_  supposed to know? It's not like  _he_  ever has to ask for help."

Kohane frowns a little."Trust me on this."

"Yes, if you say so," Watanuki responds, carelessly. He doesn't meet her eyes.

Kohane shakes her head. "That's not enough." She folds her arms and pushes up the sleeves, thinking. "I won't force you." She pauses. "What if you only swore to me, instead?" she wonders.

"I'd do that." The quick reply is instantaneous. When Kohane looks into Watanuki's eyes, he means it. And he's ready. The is no doubt at all. He never wants to have this conversation again.

Kohane steps back and glances at Doumeki. He nods at her, looking tired but satisfied, and keeps winding the gauze around Watanuki's arm. Kohane turns her gaze back to Watanuki, and straightens. "All right. Now promise me."

"I promise that I will never hide any injury that befalls me, whether it has healed or not, whether she asks or not, from Kohane Tsuyuri," Watanuki promises swiftly. "And whatever she asks me, I will reply truthfully."

He didn't have to add that.

"Thank you." Kohane embraces him briefly. "I know what your pride means to you. I won't misuse the privilege."

Watanuki sticks the heel of his left hand in his face, partly disgusted with himself and partly on edge from the pressure of the gauze wrapping his hand. No one says anything. Doumeki throws Kohane a look of pure, unadulterated relief, and Kohane takes comfort in that. This compromise seems to be enough. At least they will never have to do this again.

Once Watanuki's wrist is taken care of, Doumeki and Kohane take care of the plates in the kitchen. The rest of the evening passes pleasantly enough, relatively speaking, until both Doumeki and Kohane have to return home to complete their homework.

Watanuki is alone again.


	8. Dial-a-Doctor

To his own surprise, Doumeki finds he likes walking to Watanuki's house much better when he is in Kohane's company than alone. He doesn't know when going to the wishing shop became an onerous task, but it had. Kohane doesn't chatter like other girls he knew, certainly not like Himawari. Ever since Kohane had come into  _obaachan_ 's care she was more relaxed than before, and smiled more often. It meant so much because Kohane would never smile if she did not mean it from the heart. To Doumeki it was like a ray of sunshine, and no matter how clichéd the description, that was how he would always think of it. To notice her smile never ceased to be a happy surprise, inexorably lifting his spirits and warming him from the inside. It was irresistible. It was because of her company, he was sure, that the stress of the past year was finally beginning to leach out of him. It was because of her that he had begun to know how bereft he had become.

It wasn't just Doumeki. Watanuki perked up when she was around, and his harshness and irritability became gentle. Watanuki was apathetic towards most news of the outside world, which he would likely not participate in anytime soon, but Watanuki was desperate to hear about everything that happened to Kohane. He could not watch her grow from day to day as Doumeki did, and Doumeki's proximity to her irked him—not as much as when he still met with Kunogi during high school, but enough to make Watanuki impatient when he thought they were too close together.

One thing that Doumeki asked Kohane help convince Watanuki of was the importance of keeping a guest book. All visitors were supposed to sign their name and leave behind their contact information and profession or specialties in case of emergencies. That way, Watanuki could slowly build a network in the community of people who could help him with common problems—or assist in the event of accidents.

It was a good thing he did, because disaster struck only a few weeks after Watanuki made contact with his first doctor, a kind and quiet broad-shouldered man named Kudo Shuichiro.

"What did he want?" Doumeki asks, peering at the name in the little leather book with interest.

"Nothing, really," says Watanuki, lounging on the couch. "He was just curious; he wanted to know where his mother was."

Doumeki turns. "But his  _wish?_ "

Watanuki throws himself back on the pillows. "It turned out he had the answers in himself. I told him she was on another plane, and asked him a few questions. It turned out, he already visited her regularly. So I told him to simply go to the place where he felt her most strongly, because his instincts were right."

"Did that require payment?"

Watanuki shook his head. "He was satisfied enough with that. And I only told him what he already knew deep down. If he had asked why his mother disappeared, I could have done more, but that question would have required payment. Some customers—like you—" Watanuki waves in Doumeki's direction "—don't like wasting magical power on questions they think they could find out through normal means. They would rather save it for dire emergencies. In this case, he couldn't, but how was he to know that?"

"Sounds like a good man."

"Yeah." Watanuki stares into space. "But he probably won't require my services again. He might not even remember coming in."

"But what if you need  _his_?" Doumeki asks pointedly.

Watanuki levers himself up to look at Doumeki for one long moment. Then he falls back on the cushions. "Don't be ridiculous.  _Hitsuzen_  doesn't work like that."

Or maybe Watanuki just had a blind spot. Himself.

The next week, Doumeki walks in and the shop is dead silent but for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the west parlor. The girls, who lie in a tumbled heap at the base of the stairs, are lifeless. He shoves open each door until he hears Mokona softly weeping and he finds Watanuki crumpled on the ground outside the porch, covered in blood from rakish slash marks to the face, neck, arms, and wrists, and strange gashes in his chest and torso, still bleeding steadily and sluggishly; the back of his skull is wet. Watanuki breathes shallowly, and will not waken. Mokona babbles and pats Watanuki's face ineffectually. Doumeki leaves Watanuki's body where it is; he doesn't dare move him.

Resolved, Doumeki grits his teeth, runs for the guest book, crams it open, and dials the doctor's number as quickly as he could.

Not fifteen minutes later, Kudo Shuichiro comes running with a case of emergency medical supplies and kneels briskly beside Watanuki's body. "What did he do? It looks like he tried to hug a wild animal," Kudo comments. "It's a little too messy to be a knife attack. Either that, or a small bomb exploded next to his chest... It looks like he hit his head somwhere on the rebound before he collapsed this way."

Mokona starts to say, "He was trying to protect..."

Doumeki silences her, shakes his head, and murmurs, "I see." He truly doesn't want to know.

After Kudo checks Watanuki's body for safety, they carry Watanuki to the guest bedroom on the first floor to treat the wounds. Kudo directs Doumeki to help him and does most of the stitching himself while Doumeki applies gauze and bandages. Kudo suspects he has a concussion. Doumeki suspects a battle is still playing out in Watanuki's dreams, or Watanuki has gotten lost in them. And there is nothing he can do about that, but wait. Kudo apologizes for how little he is able to do for him, as the wishing shop is hardly a hospital and Watanuki is unable to leave it, and goes home after leaving instructions on how to check on Watanuki when he wakes and an admonition to keep Kudo informed of Watanuki's health and give him a call if there are further developments.

Doumeki stays close to Watanuki's side, awaiting the late hours of the night with dread. At the the sight of Watanuki's bandaged hands, and his mind flashes back to the nightmare of waiting for Watanuki to emerge from the hydrangea, and the sight of Watanuki clasping the bony hand of a skeleton freshly erupted from the earth. Of Watanuki nursing papercuts after interactions with Himawari; of yet more gauze and bandages when Watanuki fell out the window. Of the eyepatch covering Watanuki's left eye, the right staring back at him in furious defiance.

Barely awake, slumped against the wall, he daydreamed about a thousand other lives he could have led... In the dead of night, under the dark reddish backdrop of his closed eyelids, they all seemed much happier than his current life. Doumeki wished...but  _this_  was the one, the one he had a duty to save...

Finally, Watanuki wakes, groggy. Doumeki quickly runs through the checklist Kudo-sensei had left him and forces Watanuki to test every limb for weakness, pain, and soreness. Watanuki complains, but he complies, and there is nothing. Doumeki flops on the floor opposite Watanuki. He should have fetched a blanket or something, but he doesn't know where they are, and he has no energy to look, anyway. Exhausted, Doumeki rolls over and sleeps at last.

* * *

Doumeki phones Kohane and Himawari the news as soon as he was able and out of Watanuki's earshot. Watanuki surely wouldn't want anyone else to know. But this was  _important._

Kohane receives the news stoically, and asks what she could do for them both. At a loss, Doumeki requests that she cook something for them both.

When he hangs up the phone, he is a little puzzled at himself for asking her to do  _that_ , but what was done was done. It was a spur of the moment answer to her question. And anyway, it wasn't like Watanuki should be allowed to cook in his condition. And he might try, if someone else doesn't get there soon to do it.

He dials. Himawari answers the phone and turns so quiet after his terse explanation that Doumeki thinks she hung up. But finally—

" _Watanuki?_ " Himawari's breath tickles with static. " _He's all right?_ "

Doumeki assures her once again that he was as well as could be expected with sixteen separate gashes, some of them quite deep, a concussion and fractured memories of the event. His tone may have been a little frosty.

Himawari surprises him.  _"You've been afraid of this all along."_

" _Un._  Yes."

_"I, too."_

They both had...

_"Watanuki...I mean, Doumeki, you're in the best place to judge—do you think he's been taking care of himself? Not...taking risks, or anything like that?"_

"Probably not, I think."

Himawari sighs.

"He's still getting used to his job, though. And still in mourning."

Himawari exhales. " _Then probably not."_

"Yeah."

" _I get it. Don't worry about it, Doumeki. I have a plan_."

Doumeki scratches his head. "Okay."

" _He's not listening to you because you're too close. You always have, but now, more than ever... It'll take—well, you know how he adores me. And I don't think he'll expect that I know what's going on with him."_

"Sure..."

" _A good shock is what he needs. What do you say?"_

"Please. And thank you, Himawari."

Her breath catches. " _No, it's nothing_ _. I thought— I thought it was for the best, but I'm the one who bailed out on you both... I'm sorry I wasn't there._ "

Doumeki shakes his head, forgetting that she isn't there see him. "No, you never," he forces out, but he's a moment too late.  _Call you later. Bye!_ The phone is beeping softly in his palm. Now she probably blames herself.

Doumeki replaces it and wonders when Himawari's plan will come to fruition. Hopefully when Watanuki is a little stronger. Right now he would probably faint at the sight of a fallen leaf in the wrong season.

Kohane arrives ten minute later. She cooks and Doumeki helps her while Watanuki is weighed down with one irate Black Mokona sitting on square his chest, and the girls sitting nearby whispering, " _Dame! Dame!_  No good!" whenever he moves. Watanuki gets a little peevish, but it serves him right.

Doumeki expected dinner to be merely tolerable, but he is reminded once again of Kohane's exceptional nature. Kohane brings her own flavor to the meal, one that is wholesome and kind and a little comforting—like a heavy blanket of cloud is the way he would describe it—just like a grandmother might, but that's a flavor that usually takes years of trying to emulate, and Kohane has only been with  _obaachan_  for a few. Moreover, it's not quite the same as Obaachan's. Kohane uses a little too much salt, just the right amount for warm tears, in the broth for everything; she probably doesn't realize she's doing it, but it makes him feel a little melancholy. Everything about it is designed to be soothing and calming. Watanuki has the opposite problem. Watanuki doesn't believe in condiments. He wants his food to be exciting all on its own.

It's a nice change.

Doumeki holds out his bowl for seconds.

* * *

"Oi, Doumeki." Watanuki's eyes are closed but his face is scrunched up thinking something.

"Yes." Doumeki collects Watanuki's used dishes and places them on a tray.

Watanuki shifts restlessly. "I can't do anything about it right now, but I really need to get back to the Ame-Warashi sometime. Could you look into that artifact I was talking to you about, you know, earlier, for me?"

"Oh," says Doumeki, and pauses while he considers this. "I forgot."

"No you didn't you big oaf," Watanuki rants, without the usual heat. He can't get enough breath, so he's muttering out of the corner of his mouth. His eyes remain closed; now they're smooth. "Now write it down or something so I can rest."

Doumeki just sighs. He  _had_  actually forgotten in the recent excitement. "I'll do what I can," he promises, picks up the tray, and walks away.


	9. Charmed Date

Himawari finds the change of pace from high school to university isn't too bad. She has twinges now and again, but she doesn't miss her family that much. She misses the fact that she doesn't have to worry about hurting them, that she can relax with them. To some degree, they are afraid for her and of her. But knowing that took its own toll; that, she doesn't miss.

What makes it bearable is Muun's friendship. Aside from meeting Watanuki, he is one of the few true blessings of Himawari's life. There are a few other people from their high school at her university, but none she wants to be close with. She makes friends here and there, but the person she ends up studying with is Muun. It's comfortable, Muun allows her to keep a safe distance and he doesn't ask for more than her companionship. In university, too, plenty of people are dating so no one can keep track of everyone, and it's less of a big deal to be seen together than in high school.

They talk about school a lot, of course, but they also pick each other's brains about various topics and opinions in a way Himawari has never been able to with anyone else. They could be talking about clouds or fish or the economic market or sociology or politics and Muun can make it all interesting, but he'll be asking her what she thinks, too, and Himawari's never had someone who wanted her thoughtful opinion on anything other than the best restaurants in town or fun things to do or famous idols. When asked Himawari discovers a stronger opinion than she possessed at first. Muun will argue, but he never puts her down, and he's always equally fascinated.

Himawari admires Muun for many reasons: for his confidence in speaking his opinion, for his respect, for his thoughtfulness. He's the best friend she could ever ask for. She can talk to him about her stress, or what is really bothering her, or her worries about what misfortune she may have caused. He calls her out when she gets too negative about her condition. He's usually right. They have only one really loud argument over her luck and it could have ended bitterly, but Muun stopped the quarrel before they could get too wrought up. When they had both cooled off, they apologized and went on as before. What they have is too precious to waste on hard feelings.

What Muun finds unbelievable is that no one ever studied Himawari's curse or thought of teaching her how to minimize the damage. He calls it irresponsible of the priest to diagnose her and leave her to suffer the consequences. He thinks it would have been better if the priest never told her at all; if that wouldn't benefit the world around her, then at least it would have been better for her mental health. Himawari disagrees. Her mental health is fine. It's the world that needs protection from her, not the other way around. In the end she did figure out what to do by herself, and the priest couldn't have known how to help her or he would have offered. But it's not completely under her control, the most she can do is attempt to manage it. At least she knows the mechanism by which the bad luck is transferred: touch.

Muun accepts that some of it is surely real, but he reasons that Himawari's condition is partly in her head. Muun figures that if Himawari is hyperaware of her condition, she might cause it to worsen or notice more things going wrong than she actually caused. Yet as they discussed, if she wasn't aware, she might cause things to happen that could have been prevented. Muun wants to find a better way to minimize her chances of that happening, a way to decrease the consequences of the hyperawareness, and see if that has an effect.

Because she has nothing to lose, and she couldn't really argue that his idea wasn't possibly true, most of the time Himawari goes along with whatever Muun suggests. She's not completely sure, but life does seem to get better in small ways, and she feels more hopeful.

Then, in the middle of one of their study sessions towards the beginning of Himawari's second semester in university, Himawari gets the call.

* * *

Gesturing for Muun to remain quiet, Himawari picks up her phone and tucks it between her shoulder and her ear. "Moshimoshi?" she says, moving the textbooks around. Her expressions changing, she picks up the phone and repositions it. "What's going on?" Losing interest, Muun returns to his math homework and completes a few more algebraic steps. "Doumeki—" She turns quiet and intent, listening closely. Muun glances at her, turns his paper over, and copies another question from the textbook.

Finally, Himawari says, in a slightly high-pitched voice, "Watanuki? He's all right?" She listens some more, pained, and at the end of Doumeki's reply she says grimly, "You've been afraid of this all along," and pauses.

For some reason, her eyes flicker across the table to Muun; he tries to look busy. She leans forward, rubbing her temples, and says cagily, "Watanuki...I mean, Doumeki-kun, you're in the best place to judge—do you think he's been taking care of himself? Not...taking risks, or anything like that?"

Muun puts his head down again, and unsuccessfully tries to tune it out. He succeeds for a few seconds, but then Himawari glances at Muun again—Muun eyes her back.

Himawari's eyes revert directly front, and she says, a little too confidently, "Don't worry about it, Doumeki-kun. I have a plan." After that she winds up the conversation, becoming a little more desperate, a little more plaintive, telling him that it's her turn to help—help what?—and at the end her voice drops to a nearly inaudible level. Then she hangs up, looking upset.

Muun checks: "That was Watanuki, wasn't it?"

"It was from Doumeki, but it was a call about Watanuki, yes," she confirms, and her voice drops. "He's an invalid again."

"What happened?"

"He got wounded somehow, a spirit of some kind sliced him up, and then he was knocked out." Himawari closes her eyes. "We keep telling him to be more careful. His job is too dangerous, and he doesn't have enough experience, but he can't leave his post. If he can't take care of himself within the confines of the shop, then..."

"I... I gather you want to do something about it?" Muun asks cautiously.

"I have to, I really need to give him a good piece of my mind," Himawari says, restless; she crosses her arms on the table and rests her head on her piled wrists. "But only once he gets better. I don't want to push him over the edge." She sighs. "I ought to be angry, but I don't know if I can get angry at him. And I really need to be, to get through to him. Does that sound stupid?" she asks, sounding tired.

"No. No, not at— No." Muun shakes his head. "He's far away."

"You make it sound so simple," she says bitterly. "I should..."

Muun shrugs. "Himawari-chan, I have always said and I will keep saying, you're too hard on yourself. You are one of the most beautiful and intelligent people I know. Nothing you feel is insignificant. Give yourself more time. It'll come to you." Muun drops his head, and continues working on his homework.

No one else knows her well enough to say such things to her... She feels a brief burst of affection for him so acute that tears spring to her eyes. He believes in her so easily.

Himawari wipes her eyes. "What should I do?"

"I think you already know that."

Himawari thinks for a while, then sort of giggles and mumbles, "...maybe I should let loose and have a drink." Thinking, she falls silent.

Muun tilts his head. "Not a bad plan, in my book, as long as you're careful."

Himawari shrugs listlessly. It could work, but...

Her reticence is rather unusual. Muun crouches and cranes his neck to look her more squarely in the face. "Do you need more time?" he asks, his words both gentle and plain.

After a moment, Himawari nods reluctantly.

"Then tell me when, I'll be there."

"Okay," she promises, but Himawari is unsure. It will be her first time drinking outside the company of her family and Watanuki, Doumeki, and once upon a time, Yuuko. It seems like a good idea, but there's also the possibility of splashing her bad luck on innocent bystanders. If she's uninhibited enough to start ranting at Watanuki, she won't have a shred of self-control left. And if Muun was her dinner partner for that evening, he would surely bear the brunt of it.

Homework finishes up pretty quickly, but neither of them feel much like leaving the library. Himawari picks out her favorite josei manga, and Muun comes back with a book of translated poetry, and they read together. When Muun falls asleep, Himawari wakes him up by tugging on his clothing before she moves on to her part time job. Muun goes home to discover that his shirt has worn an odd hole near the breast pocket, probably from when he was wading through the park on the way back. Or perhaps not. Either way, he won't tell Himawari.

* * *

In the morning, Himawari collects her mail as usual, idly flicking through ads and letters. A card slips out from inside the pile and falls to her feet; bending, she picks it up—a postcard, with a picture of the red rising sun behind Mt. Fuji, fairly standard and generic. It was not to Watanuki's taste, more to Doumeki's—she slips it over. She almost drops it again as she recognizes Watanuki's handwriting, but she fumbles and recovers it just in time. Hands trembling, she returns to her desk and drops the rest of the papers down, and sits down to read it.

 _Dear Himawari-chan,_   _how are you? The summer weather is sweltering, but I am well. Doumeki must have told you how I am, but you shouldn't believe half of what he says. I am fine and will be better by the end of the week as always. So please, don't worry. I am not allowed to do much at the moment, but I made you a charm. Turn the card back over when you read these words and you'll see it—_

Himawari's eyes leak from the corners, letting water trickle out. She swipes them with her left hand and turns the postcard over again. Now there's a woven talisman lightly stuck to an embossed picture of a red poppy and yellow camellia; she knows this means,  _'I miss the cheerful you'_ ; she touches the cord, and lightly runs her fingers over the braided charm. It falls into her palm easily. Swallowing, Himawari turns the card over again, and reads:

 _—you'll see it there. It's for protection. You can give it to a friend or a special someone and they won't be affected by your luck as much—I think—it's just a prototype, but I have been thinking of it for a long time and it could make your life easier. You'll have to let me know. I tried to put something of Tampopo in there, pieces of his eggshell. If you could bring a few of Tampopo's molted feathers, I could make it work better. Something of your blood kin would also be helpful. I'll keep practicing while I have time like this... Until next April, Himawari-chan. Please look into this matter for me?_  He signs it,  _Watanuki Kimihiro._

She'll have to buy the saké for his birthday. Things from her family—she could snip off locks of their hair when she goes home for a visit, and mail it to him in an envelope; she could collect Tampopo's molted feathers, too. Watanuki  _may_  have intended the charm as a gift but Himawari senses that this service shouldn't be free; as he said, he was practicing for work, and she would be helping his work: it was actually a transaction. But he hadn't presented it like that.

Actually, that thought  _is_  somewhat worrying. The most pressing part of his work right now is to learn balance...but he shouldn't be leaving it up to her to decide...

_He is so frustrating._

Himawari numbly rubs her fingers over the charm; in a few seconds, it is softly glowing pale yellow from the center.  _I guess it works_. Himawari bites her lip.  _That stupid idiot—_  She's smiling and crying, it's the smile of a happily broken heart, she loves him so much and yet for all the love she has for him he pains her in the same measure...

He should be worrying about himself, he should be studying the spirit world, he should be researching other kinds of protections, surely there are more useful things to be doing—why, why, why her, when he has already done so much for her? She can wait. She hadn't asked for this. There are more important things in store for him right now.  _He_  can't afford this.

She slips the charm into an envelope. She is pretty sure that if she holds on to the charm, she could break it before it does any good, and she wants it to last as long as possible.

That afternoon she buys a longer cord to hang with the charm, and gives the package to Muun when she sees him after class, and asks him to wear it. She can't look at him while she asks. She blushes furiously. She can feel him looking at her, in that calm measured way that Muun always has, but he takes the package without speaking. It's as if he already knows what it is for, but she says anyway, just to be clear, "it's for your safety." And Muun takes it out, with her permission, and he hangs it around his neck. She knows she is wearing the heartbroken smile as her heart beats painfully in her chest, and gives thanks that he didn't protest the gift. "It will wear out someday. You should tell me when it does," says Himawari, almost humming with anxiety. "I think you should notice."

Muun touches the charm. "And where did this—?"

"It's—it's not from a shrine or a festival or anything like that," says Himawari, squirming inside. "It's from Watanuki. His present." She averts her eyes.

"But then it's for you," says Muun, trying to understand.

"It's too weak, I'd break it," Himawari interrupts. "So it's for the one whom I like best." She laces her fingers together behind her back, tense.

Muun blinks.

"This way I can touch you, and you won't be harmed," says Himawari, and sort of reaches out; Muun's hand swings in, and clasps her hand, gripping firmly, his eyes never leaving hers.

She knows what's about to happen. Dizzy, she clings to his hand.

"You mean it?" Muun asks, his fingers closing tighter against hers. The charm hanging from his neck glows softly as it had before.

Himawari nods, barely daring to breathe.

Muun takes a deep breath, squeezes her fingers once more, and releases. He smiles at her. "Thank you."

She knows it is sincere.

"I know when we can go drinking," says Himawari, slowly, the words dripping from her lips like dark sugar syrup, like molasses, slow and heavy like her thoughts.

"Good," Muun smiles at her, as if sharing a secret. "Because I know the place."

Himawari looks up, up into his soft black-velvet eyes, and catches her breath.

"Himawari," says Muun, bending down a little so he can better meet her eyes, "I still like you. Will you go out with me?"

"Yes," Himawari whispers. This time, when he links hands with her, she flushes deeply and glances to the side. "I'm not  _usually_  shy," she mumbles, face burning.

"I know."

"I've—I've actually liked you for a long time now, but I didn't want to ask," she says to his jacket, nervous. "In case—"

"But I do like you."

Himawari nods mutely. She won't speak of  _that_  insecurity again; she doesn't need to.

Muun casually tucks her bangs behind her ear, and smiles at her. "We should make the reservation."

Slightly anxious, Himawari nods again, and squeezes his hand.

They smile at each other, shy in their new roles, but hopeful. At last, the timing feels right.

It's the least she can do to try to show him, however inadequately she is able, how happy she feels. The funny thing is, he seems to want to do the same.

* * *

Himawari calls Doumeki again and warns him of her plan ahead of time. She even rehearses a short version of what she wants to say so he can be prepared for backlash. She doesn't like to put pressure on Doumeki, however inadvertently, and makes sure he knows this. He has been overwhelmed far too often lately. The last thing she wants is to compound his pain. The point, after all, is to protect Watanuki, but also to ease Doumeki's burden in the long run...

It is too easy to imagine Watanuki taking out his stress on Doumeki, both because Doumeki is always handy and also because he has always been Watanuki's automatic target for nagging, and these days Watanuki has no one else to vent on. They had always  _fit_ , even completed each other in many ways. One provided what the other needed, one lacked what the other had in excess, and so on...yet they came from such different places that they misunderstood each other utterly. Worse, Watanuki thought little about what prompted him to act or why. His confused dislike of Doumeki had once justified his more unfair impulses; his faith that Doumeki was impenetrable did little to check his catlike tongue. So Himawari used to gently correct him at the times when the pair were least like friends. It was a blatant contradiction that she hoped would—repeated often enough, heard often enough—become prophecy. If Doumeki and Watanuki heard that they were friends, and began to believe they were friends, they might start to act like it. When she chuckled, "You're such good friends!", no matter what Watanuki said next, the bite in his words would vanish as they became silly. He probably didn't even notice the change in his own tone. Watanuki listened to hardly anyone where she herself and Doumeki were concerned (she considered this a sign that Watanuki was closer to Doumeki than he cared to admit, when otherwise he gave no sign of it). But in fact they  _did_  mollify over time. How much was due to her influence, she doesn't know.

She can't be there now to deliver censure or reminder. They can't depend on her to smooth over their problems if they refuse to fix them. The most she can do is bring up what's wrong, and hope they work it out between themselves.

Himawari hears Doumeki sigh dimly over the phone, and she knows he shares her reservations; he probably took the phone away from his ear or tucked the mouthpiece against his shirt, but she heard it, that heavy exhale of exhaustion. But he approves the plan. Without a moment of delay, he tells her in no uncertain terms: "Do it."

"All of it? Isn't it a little much?" Himawari asks, a little taken aback.

"I would not add or take away," Doumeki replies.

She wishes she could promise that everything will be all right, but she can't. He knows he might suffer, but thinks it is worth it. He even appreciates her thoughtfulness.

Himawari says her goodbyes and wishes him luck, despite the irony in the phrase as it comes from her. She hangs up.


	10. Telephone

A vague impression of a shadowy nightmare hovers behind Himawari's dreams, and hangs over her waking, before she remembers the task set before her for the day—the day of her date, the day she would call Watanuki. She overslept. Himawari heaves herself out of bed. Rooting through her clothes, she is ambivalent about all of them, but finally she chooses a little silver dress and a blue-green skirt and scarf. She pulls her hair back with a simple knot. In the mirror she dabs makeup over the dark circles under her eyes, feeling slightly sick. As she twists her hair into loose spirals with her curling iron, the room fills with stifling steam. The curls aren't as tight as she wanted, but they will have to do.

She finishes just in time. Muun meets her downstairs, in the lobby.

They walk into the city and through the parks, talking. The activity and conversation cheer her up a little, but her mind drifts. Muun doesn't push her, and he ends up doing most of the talking. Today his subject of interest seems to be college, or latest scientific advancements, and a bit of history. Himawari finds herself tuning in and out, listening with only half an ear, asking a question every so often, and on her off moments she wishes they could hold hands just so Muun wouldn't need to talk.

She is exasperated with herself. A date at last, and she isn't really in the mood for it. She can't even be properly attentive to Muun, which means it's a disaster as a date. That doesn't mean she wanted to be alone: this  _is_  just what she needs. Spending these waiting hours alone would be excruciating. Muun is at her side, and they keep moving, and it's enough.

When the sun begins to set, Muun takes out his map, and they head for a casual family bar, a local  _izakaya_  from their old neighborhood.

Himawari takes a deep, long breath. It perks her up.

Muun looks at her. "Weight come off your shoulders?"

Himawari nods, wiggling her shoulders in response. "Yeah..."

"More worried than you thought?"

"Mm." She nods.

The corners of his mouth tip upwards in a smile. "I thought so. It's okay. I know you've been humoring me all day."

"Huh? No...not at all!" Himawari spread her hands and shook them, laughing, a little embarrassed. "You're the one humoring  _me_..."

Muun shakes his head and sticks his hands in his pockets, bashful, looking off to the side. "Nah..."

Himawari shrugs. "Maybe it was both of us, then."

Muun colors a bit. "Still. I'm sorry."

"No, it was really my fault..."

"Don't worry, it'll be over soon." Muun smiles at her.

Her hands curl over her collarbone. "Yeah," Himawari breathes.

She hopes it won't be too painful. It suddenly hits her, how much she's asked of him. It sounds like the worst thing in the world, spending your first date talking about another guy, worse, a guy you used to like. She hadn't thought of that at first. Himawari looks up at him, he's so much taller than her, and narrows her eyes. He's really quite absurd, to go these lengths for her. Doesn't he feel jealousy? Why is he letting her do this? Why didn't he dismiss her idea immediately as utterly terrible? His love is so...so strange. But it isn't as if she isn't drawn to it. His gentleness.

"Hm?" Muun nudges her lightly with his elbow.

She shakes her head and walks on, one arm hooked through his, one hand curled over her chest, and a sharp pain in her heart. She senses that something has already started to shift. She can't bring herself to hope.

_I don't know if I'm in love with you. But I want to be..._

* * *

 

They sit at a booth in sight of the bar, but out of the way of the other customers. After some negotiating, they decide on a couple sticks of yakitori, a side of rice, and two glasses of white wine to start with. As bars go, it's a nice one, well maintained, with nice wooden panels and polished, lacquered tables. The walls are not too cluttered with knick-knacks. It's classy for an  _izakaya_  of its caliber, with a quieter atmosphere than most. The only thing keeping it from being confused for a nicer bar is its layout. On a weekday night, it shouldn't be overly busy. The popular  _izakaya_  on the other side of the neighborhood was much more popular and rowdy. Himawari preferred this one. Here, at least, she could hear herself think, and wouldn't have to compete with shouting on the telephone.

Himawari dimly remembers being here once before for some sort of family celebration, and of course the visit had ended in tears for some reason or another. It had been quick, but someone had gotten burned... Probably hot oil spilt on someone. Things like that happened distressingly frequently when she was that little, though she hadn't realized at the time. Not long after that her family stopped going out to eat at all. That was probably what had started Himawari's interest in cakes and pastry shops as soon as she had some freedom to explore. She had craved the old experiences, desperate to escape her distracted mother's rather perfunctory and bland cooking. From restaurant to restaurant, food had a different tastes, different flavors, different styles. It pleased her to find hole-in-the-wall specialized places.

And then she had met Watanuki. She had never known a person with so much internalized knowledge of food and cooking. He could effortlessly balance ingredients and maximize flavor, and he was so practical and modest about it: he didn't need much equipment, he knew his substitutions, he adjusted for the size of his audience and the appliances of his kitchen, he  _just_   _did it._  It was hard to believe he had grown up an orphan. Who could have taught him? He was an immature boy after all, easy to brush off, but — there was something about his food that made her want to know more about him. There was more to him than let rise to the surface, and that something was worth knowing, even as he frantically denied it. After much time, she did finally begin to glimpse it.

Finally Himawari looks at Muun and raises her glass. Muun mirrors the movement, they clink glasses for the toast, and drink.

"To Watanuki," Himawari murmurs.

"To truth," says Muun.

Himawari takes another careful sip. She glances at Muun.

"Don't hold back on my account," Muun quickly reassures her. "I want to stay more sober than not, I think."

Himawari nods. "Very well." She sniffs her wine. It smells and tastes the same as she remembers. If she isn't mistaken, Yuuko once had a bottle of this stuff. The label on the bottle looks familiar. Doumeki had drunk most of it and Himawari had poured a glass or two for herself and stopped there, nursing the same glass for a couple of hours, while Watanuki had sniped at Doumeki for drinking more than his share. Not that she had ever seen Doumeki properly drunk like Watanuki was afraid of him getting, and Watanuki's complaints were hypocritical considering how quickly Watanuki succumbed to the effects when he stopped serving. Doumeki and Yuuko seemed to have an uncanny sense for their limits, and unusually high tolerances for alcohol on top of that. Himawari sighs.

"What is it?"

"I haven't been in this neighborhood for a while. You know, because of university. It's stirring up memories..."

"That's right, you grew up in this area, didn't you? I was only here for the last two years of high school."

"Must have been rough."

"I found my way pretty quick, though I struggled to make friends that first year. And then I met you in my last year, so." Muun grins so his teeth flash. "I didn't do too badly."

Himawari tilts her head; the wine must be working, a little. A blush is settling over her nose. Realizing she was blushing only made her flush harder. "I wasn't exactly the most open person to approach back then..." she murmurs, fingering the warmth inflaming her cheeks.

"You weren't. If that accident hadn't happened, I don't know that I would ever have gotten to talk to you."

Himawari drops her gaze back down to the table. "Don't talk about the curse like that."

Muun sits up straight. "I'm not going to pretend we didn't accidentally benefit from someone else's misfortune. But you didn't will it to happen. Sometimes bad things happen and good things come out of it."

Himawari drags a stick of chicken onto her plate and toys with it. "There isn't anything good about causing something like that."

Muun shrugs. "All I'm saying is the good outcome was coincidental. The chaos that your curse brings into your life can bring difficulty, but it can also bring about opportunities."

Himawari frowns at him. "I don't think so." She takes a bite of chicken.

Muun is quiet for a moment. "I suppose I can see how exploiting those opportunities might be unethical."

"It's out of reach, is what it is," Himawari muttered under her breath.

"Wait, what?" Muun cocks his head.

"I said...it's unreachable. Unrealistic." Himawari waves her hands, frustrated. "I can't create a crisis and solve it like some arrogant hero. I don't know what kind of crisis is going to happen. I'm not prepared to deal with it. Besides—for me, trying to fix something my bad luck has already touched has a tendency to worsen the situation."

"Oh." Somewhat to Himawari's surprise, Muun says, "All right."

"All right what?"

"You're right, I got carried away; it was a stupid idea. Of course you've thought of it before." Muun shook his head. "I wasn't saying that you should start new crises on purpose. But even on accident— I guess I didn't see how evil the thought sounded until I spoke it."

"It's not stupid, it just doesn't  _work_ ," Himawari sighs. "I've thought about it often enough. And I've tried it." Himawari takes another sip of wine. "I suppose it wouldn't be bad if more accidents made opportunities like that one did." She raises her eyebrows. "Even so, I don't think anticipating them would do me much good. It's the consequences on the side that have potential, not the remedy for the accident. The only way I'll get a chance like that again is if it falls into my lap like you fell into my path."

"That's a little like fate, isn't it?"

Himawari shrugs. "Maybe. It's  _hitsuzen_. Our past, our genetics, the person who we grew to be because of our experience and past choices, each of these principles inform our present and influence what we will choose next, while the choices other people make and the natural processes that take place are, from our perspective, inevitable. _Hitsuzen_  is all of those things together leading to one inevitable future. A future necessitated by the past."

"I remember Watanuki used that word..." Muun traces the rim of his glass with a finger. "Mm. I may not know the word but I've thought about the concept. I don't buy that all people's decisions come straight out of their past."

"I suppose it's an ideal, although without the theory I'm not sure what you must make of some of the stranger findings of twin studies." Himawari takes another drink of wine. "Incidentally, Watanuki has a story about a twin case like that... Watanuki's mentor used the term rather loosely, and so does he. But that might have something to do with the fact that they are able to perceive some futures with precognition. They recognize event triggers."

Muun doesn't look like he believes that last fact. He refills Himawari's wineglass and places it with a solid  _thunk_  onto the wooden table.

"You don't have to believe me."

Muun looks even more unhappy. "Whenever you say that..."

Himawari laughs. "Sooner or later, you find out for yourself."

"Exactly. Science is doomed." Muun gulps his drink and and exhales loudly.

Himawari toys with skewer left on her plate. "It's not doomed! Just incomplete..." She smiles shyly.

"I wish I knew how to look at the world as you do. It must be...different. Sometimes it seems like the world must be so much more...alive." Muun is staring abstractedly at his glass.

"Do you mean that?" Himawari looks at him sideways. Muun nods. Himawari takes a deep breath, looking at the table. "It doesn't make me happy."

"I know that," Muun says swiftly. "I know it's not a bed of roses. But I think...your world is—it's dynamic."

Himawari feels torn. "If I could show you..." she says reluctantly.

"It's not urgent. It doesn't have to be right now. It's just someday...I wish I could see as you do." Muun swirls the wine around his glass.

Himawari can practically feel his wish ripple out into the universe, flinging away from him, waiting to affect...something. Someday, somehow, it will reach the wishing shop, where she knows it will be granted. And what will happen? Himawari shivers.  _Change_.  _And for every wish, a price—_ She takes another sip of wine, mulling it over.

He doesn't know what he's asking for. She can't possibly tell him, or stop him. That's for him to discover for himself. Worry makes her heartsick.

_And what does Watanuki know, what is he wishing for, without ever knowing—?_

"I think," she says, setting her drink down, "I think I need to talk to Watanuki  _now_." She swallows, and stands up shakily, pressing lightly down on the table to support herself. "In the back—"

"I'll go with you," Muun says immediately.

She smiles at him weakly. "All right." She edges out of the booth and walks to the small hall at the back of the restaurant. Muun follows. Himawari starts dialing, her hands shaking, and by the time the cell phone connects her grip is weak and slippery. She leans on the side of the restroom and presses the phone into her ear, uneasily rubbing its plastic sides with her thumb, fumbling her grip. Muun lays his arm around her shoulders, bracing her. Himawari sniffs. At last the phone clicks.

* * *

 

" _Moshi-moshi—"_

"Watanuki-kun, are you all right?"

 _"Yes, I—"_ There's a short, uneasy silence, like he wasn't prepared for that question, and then,  _"I— Himawari, I'm fine...! Things are great... I wasn't expecting you to—"_  His tone is completely wrong. It's immediately clear that he feels the need to cover up something. So Doumeki was right. Goodness, he's not even good at lying. It just hurts.

"Watanuki, you  _liar_." Himawari wipes her eyes. "Stop. Please, just stop. I know you're trying to be kind, and you're trying not to hurt me, but I am  _not_  an idiot, you know I'm not. I  _talked_  to Doumeki not very long ago, and I _know_  you're not all right. You're not the only person I can go to for the truth. How could you lie to me?"

_"Himawari, I..."_

"Watanuki, how could you lie to  _Doumeki_?"

Watanuki starts to protest,  _"I haven't lied since—"_

Himawari's voice lowers little by little. "Except for what you were about to say to me? I know what you promised him, and  _I don't care_. You shouldn't have had to make a promise like that in the first place. Since when do you need to make a solemn oath to speak honestly? How _could you_ lie to us both?  _Really?_  You put us in that position? Watanuki, I am disappointed in you."

Watanuki makes a choking sound.

"Yes. You and Doumeki, you  _are_  each other's best friends, Watanuki," Himawari whispers, "And he's always at your side; he's always with you. He deserves so much better. I'm far away, I'm not as important, but  _Doumeki_? I can't believe you let that happen."

_"Himawari-san! I didn't mean—"_

Her voice strengthens. "I know you're trying to hole up in the shop. I know you're trying to push us away. But you have to understand we can't let you do that, and when you do that, you hurt us all. You are hurting yourself, you are hurting Doumeki, and by the time the news reaches my ears, you end up hurting me. Because I can't do anything for you at all. I am powerless to help you. If the only thing I can do is shed my sunshine face to give you the biggest scolding of your life, I will say this: the only one who is there for you is Doumeki, and  _you keep hurting him._ "

Watanuki takes a gigantic, involuntary gulp of air like Himawari just socked him in the ribs and punched the air out of his lungs, and starts coughing. The coughs take a while to subdue.

She continues. "Furthermore, and I hope I only have to tell you this once, but if you can't treat Doumeki with respect and you care for him at all, then get someone else to help you that you can work with. It's not fair to him and he's  _exhausted_  caring for you when you won't let him in. You're too blind to notice the stress that he's under and he's  _tired_  and he needs release. But he will never ask you for that. He'll deny it to himself until he collapses at your feet, as long as it means  _you_  don't collapse too."  _Because he loves you_ , Himawari wants to scream at him;  _you idiot, he loves you just as much as I do, even more than I do, even, and you—you—you—it's just not FAIR—_  It's not fair that neither of them will accept the love that they need and deserve, and it's messed them up so much inside. Well, all three of them, really, she thinks when she glances at Muun, heart raw and aching.

 _"I'm sorry!"_ Watanuki sounds stricken.  _"I didn't—I never thought—"_

Himawari's voice softens. "I know. You were only looking out for yourself. Doumeki has been looking out for you, but he's also got himself to carry on. You've been distracted. I'm telling you that it's time to think about how much you have been asking of him."

 _"I've never_ asked _for anything..."_ Watanuki says mulishly.

Himawari sighs. "I'm sure you haven't. But when you need so much and ask for nothing, needs still need to be met. So Doumeki has taken it upon himself to do it  _all_  to the best of his ability. Even if he has to guess."

 _"But I_ don't _need everything!"_  Watanuki interjects crossly.

Himawari rolls her eyes. _As if._ "How is he to know if you never ask?"

Watanuki groans.

"I'm serious, Watanuki. You need to ask him for something.  _Entrust_  him with something, and you can take away from his burden so he doesn't have to do it all. Either do that, or send him away. It's too cruel."

Watanuki takes a deep breath.  _"I understand, I'll—I'll do— Okay. I don't know what I'll choose, but I swear to you, Himawari, I will make up for what I have done."_

Himawari relaxes, just slightly. "Now I'm going to ask you again. How are you doing?"

He doesn't answer right away. Then he sighs and says, his voice at its most flat,  _"Look, I'm sorry. I got hurt."_

"I'm sorry too. If you told me in the first place you wouldn't have to apologize. What happened?"

_"I ... don't remember exactly. I must have hit my head pretty hard. I either slipped while dispelling a spirit or granting a wish. Got slashed pretty badly."_

"I see." Watanuki doesn't seem to have learned anything from this latest mistake, though that doesn't seem to be his fault. Himawari quells her disappointment.

_"My stitches are healing, though. Should be gone soon. I do heal quick."_

"Good."

_"It's not like I do heavy lifting in my line of work..."_

"Still!" she exclaims.

 _"Yeah. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to..."_  Watanuki regathers his thoughts and finishes,  _"To present a picture of my life that wouldn't distress you_ _, I guess. I'm sorry."_ His voice is still flat.

"I'm not a child to be coddled, Watanuki." Himawari leans forward over her phone and enunciates extra carefully, " _Thank_ you for telling me, Watanuki."

_"It's all right."_

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"

 _"No, not really. It's the same as usual."_ He laughs nervously.  _"Struggling to grant wishes without hurting myself. Though I've learned some things. So I shouldn't be making the same mistakes again..."_

He's still trying to emphasize the positive. "Thank goodness!" Himawari tries to inject some lightness into her voice without sounding hysterical. "You must tell me about what you've learned some other time." _This is too overwhelming._

 _"Yeah. I'm glad too..."_  he sounds rueful.  _"I guess it's not that bad to just tell you. Like ripping off a plaster. It was excruciating and horrible...but over so fast...now I feel stupid... I just kept worrying and worrying. You must think I'm petty and small."_  He laughs self-deprecatingly.

"No, I don't. And you're not."

_"Yes, I am. I've been an idiot..."_

"Look, Watanuki. I _do_ want to hear your struggles. I want to help you overcome them. I want to hear how you get through them." Himawari bites her lip. "But can you do that for me? Stop pretending everything's okay? I know it's not and I just—I just—" Her voice cracks as tears suddenly spill over her cheeks. "I won't mince words. You could drop dead at any time and no one would know. I worry about you living alone in that shop, and it makes it so much harder not to know the truth when I know your life is so dangerous. It pains me to hear you lie. I've spent my life smiling through my teeth and I know that sound. If you lie about the painful things, you won't be able to tell about the good things. That's why this is important.  _Do you understand?_ " She asks him through a sob.

_"I understand. Perfectly."_

"Doumeki feels exactly as I do. It's even more important for him to know what is happening. It is easier for him to know when you are hiding something. He can observe for himself. But it hurts him just as much. Remember that, okay? Don't mistreat him." Himawari takes a deep breath.

_"I'll remember, Himawari-san."_

"Thank you. We'll talk about happier things next time, okay?"

_"Let's do that."_

"I have to hang up now. Bye, Watanuki-kun. Take care, won't you?"

" _Yes, I'll try._   _Goodbye, Himawari-chan. I miss you."_

* * *

 

Himawari hangs up, turns and presses into Muun's chest, sighing with relief. She's still shaking a little.

"Feel better?" Muun asks her.

She nods mutely. "I love you."

"You love your friends, too. You're passionate about them." Muun flicks her ear. "I like that."

"Sometimes I don't know. Right now I think I might hate him," Himawari mutters.

Muun laughs. "Well then. I'm sure it's temporary."

Himawari sighs and leans her head on Muun's shoulder. "Shall we keep getting drunk, or...?" But the idea doesn't seem very appealing.

Muun's lips hover over her forehead. "We could make out."

"Then take me home, please." Himawari flushes.

"Yes. Though I think it is raining."

Sure enough, Himawari hears little raindrops tapping the roof. "Let's pay and go. I don't know how long Watanuki's charm will last."

"We should make the most of it," Muun agrees.

Muun buys an umbrella at the nearest drugstore and accompanies her back to the dorm. They kiss on the front porch a few times, soft lips meeting and pressing gently. Finally Himawari puts a hand on his chest and separates them, telling him that it is time. Muun says goodbye, and Himawari keys open the door, and watches as Muun walks away.

* * *

 

Great dark clouds are gathering and the night is dark when Doumeki opens the door to the shop, and quietly lets himself inside, holding a bag of groceries. He puts them away and loiters in the kitchen while Watanuki talks in a hushed voice on the phone. His ears burn. He knows who is on the other end of the phone. Stay or go, stay or go—

Finally it is over. Doumeki takes a step backwards, his back bumping into the counter.

"That was Himawari just now," Watanuki says shakily, replacing the phone on its cradle, shaking a little. "She never raised her voice."

With one hand hidden behind him, Doumeki squeezes the lip of the countertop.

"Somehow it still felt like she was shouting..." Watanuki turns and walks toward Doumeki. "I haven't heard that tone of scorn since she told me she was something I should have realized long before, that night I was recovering after I fell out that window. But you know, I deserved it. Both times. She...she knocked some sense into me."

The tone is all wrong. This isn't the way this should go.

Doumeki's throat constricts.

"I haven't been fair to you, Doumeki, these past months. Maybe even the past year." Watanuki looks out the window, into the distance. Closed-off, he stands with arms are loosely crossed in front of him, one hand clinging to his shoulder. "I see that now. I'm sorry it wasn't sooner. You've been trying to avert a danger...danger I should have feared, but _you_ did. I wasn't cooperative. I want to change that, _but_. I am not leaving this shop, and I will not stop waiting for Yuuko. Still. I live here."

There's a rumbling outside. Thunder. Soon there will be rain.

His throat too tight to speak, Doumeki nods.

"Himawari has given me to understand that you took on too much of what is not yours to bear," Watanuki continues. "I am going to make a list of things I need. I'll write one up every week, and give it to you, and don't you  _dare_  do a single thing more that is not on the list. I forbid it. Not until we figure out what to do so you don't overwork yourself."

Lightning strikes, and the flash illuminates Watanuki's pale face and is reflected by his oval glasses for an instant. Thunder rolls a few seconds later.

Doumeki's feet stick to the floor. "Watanuki," Doumeki croaks. Shoving himself away from the counter, he stumbles jerkily in Watanuki's direction. The rain begins to pour, all at once as if the world has suddenly swept a curtain over the shop. The rain thuds rhythmically against the tile roof of the wishing shop and knocks against the tinny drains. The sound beats down relentlessly like the sound of defeat.

Doumeki swallows, fighting down creeping feelings that he has failed somehow. The cold thought that Watanuki would release him is a bitter dream. Not now, but soon, Doumeki thinks. This is not the change nor the clean relief he wanted...

Watanuki brushes past him brusquely and his hand knocks into Doumeki's hanging loosely at his side, and doesn't break stride as he leaves the room. Doumeki stares at his hand, wondering abstractly if it would help to drive it into the wall; but he stays his hand, until at last he lets anger fall away and leans heavily on it instead. He's too tired for this. He lingers in the foyer, unable to think about the journey ahead, and leaves as soon as he hears a break in the rain. He doesn't ask to borrow an umbrella. The rain rolls and splashes off his coat. He gets wet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, nor the previous chapter, could have been written without the generous and sagely advice of my devoted friend samtastrophe! I gift this chapter to her. <3
> 
> That was my note in 2015. It's 2017 and (many life experiences later) after two years I finally edited this chapter. Continuation? Maybe?


	11. Fair Fate

Doumeki doesn't think. His tired feet lead him to Kohane's home. It is late, but he lets himself inside the garden gate and makes it to the door, hand raised, before he hesitates, appalled at himself—for coming; for hesitating. Swallowing his doubt, he reaches for the wood of door again—

Kohane opens the door and blinks languorous sea-green eyes at him. "Grandmother said you'd come by," she says matter-of-factly, tugs him inside, and helps him strip off his sodden coat quickly. He follows her through the kitchen to the dining room, where Grandmother leans back in a small quilted rocking chair in the corner, eyes closed and to all appearances asleep. Doumeki is quite sure she will wake the moment there is need for her, however. "We made stew. Grandmother says you're welcome anytime, you know. Would you like some?"

"How did she know that?" Doumeki mumbles, but he follows Kohane's lead and lets her serve him some.

"She told me right before she dozed off." Kohane shakes her head. "It just comes. She's not worried. What happened tonight?"

Doumeki sits at the table, cups his hands around the warm bowl, and tells her everything. "What should I do?"

Kohane says, "I don't know."

"He promised me he would stay in this world," says Doumeki.

"Yes."

"It's not my world," Doumeki murmurs, eyes are hot with shame, rage, and regret. How could he have ever hoped otherwise?  _Stupid, stupid, stupid..._

"I know." Kohane lays a towel over his damp hair. When Doumeki doesn't move to take it, she presses at the dampness gently. Doumeki lets his head droop a little. "Mother used to do this for me. Before," Kohane says.

 _Kohane standing in the ice bath, fully clothed, shivering—_  His insides seize, turning to ice. "Kohane," Doumeki says, soft and low. He wants to stop her; he wants to tell her she doesn't have to go on if she doesn't want to. His stomach churns.

"She didn't used to be so bad. It's not your fault. Doumeki." Kohane's hands are gentle as she rubs the towel over his hair. Then her hands pause. "People change."

"Do you think Watanuki has changed?"

Kohane shakes her head. "Yes. No." She shakes her head more fiercely.

Doumeki looks at her. "Which is it?"

"He's still kind." Kohane stops and gazes back at him softly. "He saved me. He hasn't lost that."

"How do you know...that side of him's not gone?" Doumeki says softly in a low monotone, letting the towel slide off his head.

"I don't." Kohane picks up the towel and folds it again. "But I know grief. It's not pretty."

Doumeki sees her mother's face, twisted with bitterness and the need to control. He is silent.

Kohane continues folding. "You're the only one he'll show it to, despite himself. But until he faces his sorrow he'll be twice as cruel."

Doumeki thinks of the boy holding the dead cat so long ago. He seems to have no resemblance to the Watanuki he saw today. "He was so...cold. His words... cut..." Doumeki makes a half-hearted slicing motion with his hand. "He doesn't want anything to do with me."

"No." Kohane shakes her head again. "He does. But he doesn't know how to be with you. When he comes to his senses, he'll miss you."

"He's become the Shopkeeper."

"No. Not yet." Kohane bites her lip. "That's half the problem."

Doumeki stares at the grain lining the table. "But if he were, then..."

"He would be in control of himself. He would know what he is doing, and why. He would have his mastery. The shop requires...distance, separation. He won't have it until he conquers his heart. You're not fair to yourself, either, you know," Kohane says softly. "You have your own life to live. Watanuki knows that. In his own way, he's trying to be..." she trails off for a moment, searching for words. "...considerate."

Doumeki gives a short laugh of half-disbelief, but he does know what she means. It is cold comfort. He buries his head in his hands.

"How are you?" Kohane asks after a moment.

"I miss..." He tries, but he finds he can't continue. It's not even the "old" Watanuki that Doumeki misses. It's the boy beneath the lies, the pretense, the excuses, and every single artless insult and dodge that Watanuki has ever employed. The boy who was kind, and curious, and courteous, who met every being as he found them, but who saw so little value in himself that he would let himself go in an instant, negating all the kindness he had to give. It wasn't his defenses, it wasn't his comedic routine, and it wasn't the empty mantle of the shopkeeper. It is Watanuki's own soul.

As if she too saw the same vision, Kohane hums in agreement. "I hope he finds himself."

"What if he never does?"

"Then he never does. But he's still our Watanuki. Not wrong, just lost." Doumeki thinks about that. In a sense Watanuki has been lost ever since Doumeki had first known him; it is just worse now. Darker, harsher, colder, and more desperate than ever. When Doumeki meets Kohane's eyes, they are filled with compassion. Kohane nudges him. "You should eat."

Doumeki glances at his the stew again; it has grown a little cold. He picks up his spoon and begins to eat, slowly, pausing between bites.

Kohane glances at the clock after a while. "It's late," she says, matter-of-factly. "The trains will stop running at midnight. You won't make it home. You can stay in the guest room," she says, getting up. "I'll get it ready now." With simple grace, she walks to the closet, fetches the bedding, and trots to the side room to prepare the futon.

Doumeki polishes off his plate, pushes it to the side, and rises to help her.

* * *

 Doumeki wakes up in the morning disoriented by bright morning light, and rolls over. Soft, marvelling greyish-green eyes resolve into...Kohane, propped up on elbow, gazing at him seriously, lying across the groove of the sliding door. Her hair falls over her shoulder in one thick braid.

Doumeki blinks.

"Do you always watch people sleep?" he says, pushing himself up from the pillows slowly. "Does Grandmother know this bad habit of yours?"

"You overslept." Kohane giggles. "Breakfast is ready," she says, leaping to her feet, and runs.

She's not like other children. She'll always be a little strange. What could possibly be interesting in watching him sleep? Doumeki doesn't have the slightest clue what is going through her head sometimes.

By the time he's presentable, Kohane is making omelets while Grandmother sits at the table, smiling and fanning herself with an _uchiwa_ as she chats with Kohane. Grandmother turns as Doumeki approaches the table. "Ah, you've come to join us."

"I'm sorry for intruding last night," Doumeki says.

Grandmother shakes her head. "Not at all. You're a nice young man, and Kohane is fond of you. We have the space, and I knew you were coming. Grandmother can sense these things."

"Grandmother, _you promised_!" Kohane hisses, surprising Doumeki with the brief spite of impetuousness. He's not sure what she's objecting to, but she must be getting along very well indeed with Grandmother to be so free.

Grandmother smiles benignly, showing no sign of whatever it is that Kohane expects from her.

"Thank you for having me," Doumeki says, somewhat at a loss.

Grandmother nods. "Sit, sit. Have something to eat." Kohane comes over and tips an omelet onto Doumeki's plate and sets the frying pan down in the middle of the table and sitting down herself.

"You know, Watanuki come here to get a reading once," Grandmother says nonchalantly.

"He came here?" Doumeki peers at her, expressionless, over the top of his rice bowl. He had known about the fortunetelling - Watanuki had blabbed to Himawari - but he had not known who Watanuki had consulted.

Grandmother nods.

"Would you like your fortune told?" Kohane asks.

Doumeki slowly lowers the rice bowl, thinking.

"It's no trouble at all," says Grandmother. "It's about time I offered. I sensed you might be stuck at a crossroads."

"Will it help?" Doumeki asks.

"Help what, dear?"

"Me," Doumeki says at last. "To know what to do."

Grandmother says solemnly, "No. But it will brighten to your darkest moments. It will bring...perspective to your life. It will remind you of your purpose."

Doumeki thinks about that, chewing slowly.

"It's for hope," Kohane says quietly but firmly.

If it was any other day, the idea would have been out of the question. The words drawn out of him almost unwittingly, syllable by syllable with excruciating slowness, Doumeki says, "I'll consider it." He doesn't even know why, exactly. He's never wanted to know the future; and that isn't what he wants now. Not really.

Grandmother smiles and Kohane beams while Doumeki ponders his own curiosity, because he's warming to the idea, strangely. It confuses him.

"It's time," says Grandmother. "And you're carrying a burden in your pocket. That wasn't there before. It changes things, doesn't it?"

Doumeki's blood chills. His hand moves involuntarily to hover over the lump in his pocket, not quite touching it.

"I take it Yuuko-san left you instructions?"

Doumeki nods, once, twice, three times.

"Clever woman." Grandmother clucks softly. "She did what she could, and with so little time. Still. Keeping that secret, all alone... Without guidance, it will eat you alive. It was never meant to be, but here it is...as much an anomaly in Watanuki's life as it is in yours. Though the boy is an anomaly himself."

Dread settles like a rock in Doumeki's stomach. He understands this—too well. "I don't understand."

"Will you show me your secret?"

Heart in his throat, Doumeki brings out the grey stone egg wrapped in a cotton handkerchief. Grandmother stares at it for a long time, then looks up.

"If you accept this burden, your life path will change forever. Your range of likeliest choices will narrow. You will be waiting always for another's decision, for no matter what you do, the wait will depend on his will entirely. You might never be happy. Your task might be thankless. I cannot tell if the reward is worth the price; that, you must interpret. Your natural fate never included an event like this. You could choose your own path unfettered...free to live a normal life. But from time to time, your doubled fates may cross paths."

Doumeki puts away the egg. "I am decided."

"Very well, then," says Grandmother, rising to her feet. She begins setting up the delicate instruments in the next room over. 

* * *

Kohane tugs Doumeki by the sleeve to sit at the machine and herds him into place. Doumeki takes his seat and crosses his legs. Kohane kneels nearby, hands curled over her thighs, watching the process with intent but quiet interest. "Can I stay?"

"Of course," Doumeki tells her.

"Touch the handle in the center like so, take even breaths, and stay still. That's it," Grandmother murmurs. "You've seen this before."

He had, though it didn't give him good feelings. Doumeki rises to his knees to touch the handle, and doesn't look up from watching the needle move on the sand, though it makes him feel a bit nauseous. "You knew my grandfather, then?" he asks, trying to distract himself.

"Hm. Perhaps you do not remember me. The last time you would have seen this instrument would have been the last time before he died...not that he asked for readings often—only three times in his whole life—ah!" The needle hit a snag. Grandmother stares at it intently, and in three seconds, it has worked itself loose. She presses her lips together, but winds up the instrument again. "That may happen again," she murmurs.

"It wasn't the end of the reading?" Doumeki asks.

"No. Not until the whole of it is written in the sand."

This time, closing his eyes, Doumeki chooses to remember.

_Sitting at his grandfather Haruka's side on a small pillow while his grandfather smoked a cigarette, idly watching it waft in the air, and chuckled softly when he glanced at the symbol drawn in the sand. "This is why I don't do these often," he had said._

_"I know what you say: only when necessary. Does the reading surprise you?"_

_"...No." Grandfather Haruka reached over and ruffled Doumeki's hair. "No, it's just what I expected. There's no cheating fate. Though I wished to see this young'un grow up. There's so much to prepare for."_

_"Would you like to see his fortune, as well?"_

Doumeki opens his eyes. "You told my fortune. When I was little. Perhaps two or three?"

"Yes." Grandmother seems pleased. "So I did. Would you like to know what I told Haruka then?"

He says "Yes," though he isn't at all sure. He doesn't like having any part of his history hidden from him, even parts he might rather not know.

Grandmother doesn't reply immediately. "I told him how to keep you safe from harm—that is, how to enhance the charm he had already placed. You were likely to become unattached and adrift in life. That, I think he already sensed. I confirmed to Haruka when he would die, and I told him that you and Haruka had a very strong connection, and eventually that connection would go on to benefit someone else. And that you would become friends with a boy who attracts spirits, and possibly another highly unusual girl."

Doumeki's mouth goes dry.

"Was it accurate?"

Doumeki nods.

They wait. The instrument snags occasionally. Grandmother quietly makes adjustments, and they continue watching, and wait.

"Here it is," says Grandmother, and closes her eyes in contemplation. "Hmm. As I thought, there are many layers." She sighs. "Your future is indeed unusually difficult to interpret. May I touch your hand?"

Doumeki extends his hand to her. She gently clasps his palm.

"Your natural fate is remarkably fluid and dependent on the people and the opportunities around you, as you have many inclinations and skills. At the university you are currently attending, you will have best results in the history profession." Grandmother breathes deeply. "History and folklore, yes. The professor there is earnest and keen, and he will support you in research without jealousy. Life will be modest but there will be enough money to satisfy you. Your parents will not object; in fact, should the management of the temple pass to you, you will have special qualifications to handle the property. The man has touched the supernatural before; though he does not understand it, he respects its power, and it is safe to confide in him. Beyond minor studies in chemistry, office politics will prove biting. If you wish to pursue the study further, it would be best to transfer to a different university. Is there anything further in that area that you wish to know?"

Doumeki shakes his head no. She's told him everything he needs to know. There isn't much chance of his changing universities. He is already attending the only one that allows him to be at Watanuki's side.

"Hmm. Do you wish to hear your romantic prospects?"

Doumeki shakes his head again. "No, except the...unpleasant ones..." Doumeki says, with some distaste. "How can I avoid them?"

Grandmother chuckles and opens her eyes. "Your grandfather used to ask for the same. He did used to be a bit of an unintentional rake, now that I think about it. It must run in the family. Let me see." She lets her eyes close again. "I see a happy family. Whom is uncertain. There are multiple eligible young men and women. There is one young woman in particular with a psychic predisposition. Unfortunately, her senses are already clouded by the occult." She grimaces. "Ah, here we have the first crossover. Doumeki-kun, if you would be so good as to let me touch the egg?"

Doumeki slips it under her palm.

"Ah. I see now. She is a controlling young woman who perceives you are her best mate, as it could have been on a different timeline, one that would have been possible at your birth — a dubious claim — and consults the shopkeeper at some future point in time. Watanuki will deal with it. She will be dissuaded without ever coming in contact with you. She will only be successful in getting what she desires out of you with the aid of magic, if she became that desperate. It's exceedingly unlikely that she would be able to void all your protections to place a spell of her design on you."

That's worrisome. Good news, he supposes, but...it will probably fuck with Watanuki's head. And Watanuki already never tells him anything.

"How far in the future?"

"Perhaps ten years or so. She will be fearing old age and afraid she's losing her opportunity to have a family. A desperate housewife."

Doumeki relaxes slightly. "Are there any others?"

"No. The rest are mere crushes and passing fancies which will come to nothing, not obsessions and false claims."

"Okay. Another question. Will I inherit the temple?"

"That is uncertain. One way or another, you will certainly inherit Haruka's legacy, however, so it is best not to worry."

"The legacy is separate from the temple?" Doumeki hadn't known that.

Grandmother nods.

"And the egg?"

"Keep it safe, your secret. And do not be late; it would be better to use it prematurely than not at all, that one."

"I see. Do you have instructions?"

" _Don't hesitate. Don't hesitate. Don't hesitate..._ " For a moment, Doumeki can almost hear Yuuko's voice, whispering as if in prayer.

"But what _time_? What place?"

"The moment Watanuki loses himself."

Watanuki is already losing himself, Doumeki thinks in despair. This tells him nothing. "The point of no return?"

"Yes, precisely. As long as you have hope that something will work out, you have no need of the egg."

It doesn't help at _all_.

"What does it do?"

"It's a...shall we say, neutral, but a complex, and very powerful evolving magic. You carry it for a reason. The outcome will be the one you need most at a time when you need brute force and power to fulfill your wish."

"I never had a wish," Doumeki says dumbly.

"That's Yuuko for you," Grandmother says, sighing. "Consider it granted." Grandmother opens the eyes again; her face wrinkles, kind and sad.

"But the price—"

"You're already paying it. You agreed to take it."

"This is backwards. Yuuko-san can't just—" _as always, reaching_ _from **beyond** the **grave**_ _to—_ Doumeki sharply shakes his head to clear it. He _can't_ let Watanuki's thoughts synchronize with his right now. Watanuki can never be allowed to know about the egg. Doumeki squeezes his eyes shut and _shoves_ , blocks him out with heavy darkness and iron doors, willing their minds to stay far, far apart. He's gone.

"She _did_. For your sake, and your happiness, and for Watanuki's sake, and his happiness. In the time that she had. This _is_ the last artifact of her arts. I would know it anywhere. It's unmistakable." Grandmother removes her hand from Doumeki's, and Doumeki slowly sinks back onto his cushion.

Doumeki looks at the stone egg. It looks as ordinary and circumspect as ever, betraying no clue as to its secrets. It seems as austere and ascetic and as un-Yuuko-like as he can possibly imagine; her work was always intricate and aesthetic. There must be more than meets the eye.

_Yuuko, you kept so many secrets._

It's a trump, a spade, an ace in the hole, the get-out-of-jail-free card. It's as if, according to Yuuko, there is no way he could fail this test. That can't be. It's untrue.

Doumeki slips the egg back into his pocket.

Grandmother shrugs and smiles at him again. "Do you have any last questions? What else is on your mind?"

Doumeki stares into the distance for a while. When he returns to the present, he says slowly, "I don't want to know any more of my future, but... May I ever dream of my grandfather again?"

"Oh, my dear. Doumeki-kun, it's simple." Grandmother clasps her hands together and cocks her head at him. "He's _your_ ancestor, not Watanuki's. He never really left. Why don't you just ask for him?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The price of the fortunetelling is cleanup and a few chores. Nothing much.


End file.
